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(■ I 


Illustrations 

PAGE 

“ Candidate Douglas Atwell Reports to 

the Adjutant, Sir ” Frontispiece 

“ Come to Attention Instantly, Sir ! ” . . 93 

“I Decline to Answer” 139 

Speedwell Slowly Counted the Fatal 

Seconds 215 

“Is THAT ALL YOU KNOW, Mr. ATWELL?” . 285 

354 


Before him lay the Open Field 

Crouching Behind the Desk was Jackson 


390 





« 


I 













A Plebe at West Point 


CHAPTER I 

REPORTING AT THE ACADEMY 

“ Candidate Douglas Atwell reports to 
the adjutant, sir.” 

An erect, stalwart boy stood with hand 
raised in respectful salute before Captain 
Cole, the adjutant of the United States 
Military Academy at West Point, N. Y. The 
young man’s manner was that of one trained 
in the ways of the military profession, and the 
adjutant glanced sharply up from his desk at 
the lad before him. Never before had he 
known that office to receive a correct report 
from a candidate, yet here was one who seemed 
to completely understand the customs of the 
service. 

“ Have you your papers, Mr. Atwell ? ” said 
the adjutant, as his eyes rapidly measured 
the candidate and involuntarily expressed 
approval. 


7 


A PLEBE 


“ Yes, sir,” ‘said Douglas, as he drew from 
the inside pocket of his coat a large stamped 
envelope, and handed it to the adjutant. The 
latter hastily read the official contents, which 
appointed Douglas Atwell, of New York, a 
cadet at large to the United States Military 
Academy, subject to the prescribed physical 
and mental examination, and directed him to 
report at West Point, N. Y., on the 6th day of 
June. 

And the great day had arrived at last — the 
day which was to decide Douglas Atwell’s 
career. The boy’s heart beat anxiously as 
he thought of the interests at stake for 
him, for within an hour he knew that he 
would be standing before a board of surgeons 
at the cadet hospital to be pronounced fit or 
unfit physically for service with the corps of 
cadets of the United States Military Academy. 
In spite of his growing anxiety, however, our 
young candidate stood erect, silent, alert, his 
well-fitting coat buttoned throughout like a 
military blouse, his heels together, and his 
hands hanging motionless by his sides. 

“ Very well, Mr. Atwell,” said the adjutant, 
as he finished his examination of the lad’s 


AT WEST POINT 


9 


credentials, and handed him a sealed envelope. 
“ Now present this to Mr. Ward in the room 
directly across the hall.” 

Once more Douglas’ hand rose in salute, 
and he faced about and stepped briskly out 
into the hall, where Sergeant Woods, the 
attendant at headquarters, stood waiting to 
usher the next candidate into the presence of 
the adjutant. 

The eyes of the two young men met as they 
passed each other in the door, and Douglas 
noted a fine, handsome fellow of about eighteen 
years, unusually well built on the lines of a 
first-class athlete. His coat lay open, reveal- 
ing a rich, highly colored necktie which 
blended well with the flush in his young 
cheeks, and his whole appearance indicated a 
young man of easy means and good environ- 
ment. He had drawn a kid glove from his 
right hand, and Douglas started as he noticed 
a visiting card between his fingers bearing the 
name, Roderick O’Connor, and realized that 
this candidate was preparing to make a social 
call upon the adjutant, and greet him with a 
hearty hand-shake. Douglas had no oppor- 
tunity to answer the questioning glance of the 


IO 


A PLEBE 


candidate as the latter was most uncere- 
moniously handed into the adjutant’s office, 
and Douglas could only hope that the hand- 
some fellow would accept his first lesson with 
the proper spirit. His own affairs, moreover, 
commanded his immediate attention, and he 
glanced about for the room occupied by Mr. 
Ward, to whom he had been ordered to report 
with the letter from the adjutant. 

The sign on the door through which he had 
just passed read, “ The Adjutant’s Office,” while 
the adjacent door bore the words, “ The Super- 
intendent.” “ Right in here, sir,” said Sergeant 
Woods, as Douglas faced the line of rooms on 
the opposite side of the hall, “ this is Mr. 
Ward’s room.” 

The hall was already thronged with candi- 
dates, who anxiously watched Douglas as he 
stepped inside. Here his name, date of birth, 
residence — all the data necessary to a com- 
plete identification of every candidate, were 
duly recorded in the official records of the 
military academy, and then Douglas was told 
to step outside and await further -^instruc- 
tions. As he emerged from the >or* v 
Roderick O’Connor, who had followed ohn 


AT WEST POINT n 

into the adjutant’s office, again awaited his 
turn. 

“ Any worse in there than in the other 
place ? ” he asked with a humorous twinkle 
in his steel blue eyes, as he twisted his un- 
used card into a ball and thrust it into his 
pocket. 

“ No,” said Douglas, “ only your history is 
wanted.” 

“ Thank goodness. That was awful,” he 
whispered, with a wave of his hand toward 
the adjutant’s door, behind which a tall, 
strapping Texan was striving “ to make a 
strong impression.” 

Douglas seated himself upon the wooden 
bench which extended all the way around the 
hall, and waited for further instructions, while 
candidate Roderick O’Connor stepped inside 
to furnish his official history. 

The group of candidates already seated and 
waiting their turn were drawn from the most 
remote and widely separated regions, and rep- 
resented the most diverse financial condi- 
tions. Their ages ranged from seventeen to 
twenty-t^o, and their faces ran from that of 
‘ le boy with his first shave to that of the full- 


A PLEBE 


I 2 

grown man. Douglas, now in his nineteenth 
year, found himself beside a six-foot son of 
Missouri, whose corpulent form was arrayed 
in a flowing Prince Albert suit, while he os- 
tentatiously smoothed down the silk of his 
glistening high hat. 

“ My name's Durkin, of Missouri,” said 
he over his shoulder to Douglas ; “ what's 
yourn ? ” 

“ Atwell,” said Douglas. 

“ Reckon you’ve heard 'bout the hazing 
and mean treatment they give to the plebes 
here?” 

“ I've heard something of it,” answered 
Douglas. 

“ Goin’ to give in to it? ” demanded Durkin 
in a loud tone, as he sat up and squared back 
his shoulders. 

“ I think so,” answered Douglas quietly. 

“ Well, I ain’t. If they don't treat me right, 
I'll fight, and I can tell you in one guess 
who’ll get licked. Reckon you’re right in 
sayin' that you'll give in,” continued Durkin 
patronizingly, “ because you ain't big enough 
to fight it out ; but if they pester me, I tell 
you I'll lick 'em.” 


AT WEST POINT 


J 3 


Durkin’s voice had risen until it was loud 
enough to be heard by every candidate in the 
hall ; it was also loud enough to be heard by 
Cadet Corporal Swayne, who had suddenly 
appeared at the head of the stairs, and now 
stood among the candidates. His fearless 
blue eyes were searching the Missourian from 
head to foot with the cool, critical scrutiny of 
a cavalryman deciding on the merits of a 
horse, and Durkin visibly started as his 
astonished gaze met the eyes of the little 
corporal. Indeed, Cadet Corporal Swayne’s 
bearing commanded instant admiration and 
respect, for no man in the corps of cadets pos- 
sessed a more magnificent physique or knew 
the spirit of his calling better. His full-dress 
coat followed his form like perfect kid with- 
out crease or wrinkle, his bell buttons shone like 
new gold, while his immaculate white gloves 
and creased duck trousers completed the most 
perfect costume that these awe-struck candi- 
dates had ever beheld. 

Cadet Corporal Swayne slowly turned his 
eyes from Durkin’s face, and walked through 
the group of candidates as utterly indifferent 
to their presence and curious gaze as if they 


H 


A PLEBE 


had been the wooden fixtures on the wall. He 
handed a card to Sergeant Woods, spoke a few 
words in a low tone, and a moment later the 
sergeant swung open the door of the superin- 
tendent’s office, and Cadet Corporal Swayne 
disappeared within. 

“ I wonder how many million years it takes 
that planet to complete its orbit,” whispered 
Roderick O’Connor, as he regained his breath 
after the cadet had disappeared. “ He prob- 
ably touched the earth long enough to hear 
your message to Mars, Mr. Durkin,” continued 
the handsome youth, as he cast an amused 
glance at the agitated Missourian. The situa- 
tion might have become embarrassing indeed 
for Durkin, had not a soldier orderly in natty 
blue suit approached Sergeant Woods with the 
information that the surgeons at the cadet 
hospital awaited the arrival of the first de- 
tachment of candidates. 

Douglas Atwell’s heart leaped as he heard 
his name called, and in a moment he and ten 
comrades were following the orderly down the 
iron stairs of the headquarters building. 

“ You are first to go to the cadet store to 
deposit your money, and then to the hospital 


AT WEST POINT 


l S 


for physical examination,” said the orderly, 
as he led the way around the north end of the 
Academic Building, in front of cadet bar- 
racks, and turned toward the treasurer’s office. 

“ Let me have all your money,” said the 
treasurer, as Douglas stepped in front of the 
window, and promptly handed over one hun- 
dred dollars, the amount required from every 
candidate, together with a small amount of 
change. 

“ Next,” said the treasurer, as he handed 
out a receipt for the exact amount deposited, 
and Roderick O’Connor responded, counting 
out one hundred and fifty dollars from a roll 
of bills, and starting to return the rest to his 
pocket. 

“ Let me have that too, Mr. O’Connor ; I 
want every cent you have,” said the treasurer. 

“ Why, I need some spending money,” said 
the candidate, looking up in surprise. 

“ Not a cent, sir ; cadets are not allowed to 
have money,” returned the treasurer, and 
Roderick O’Connor reluctantly handed over 
the rest of his funds, with the remark, “ I 
thought I would have to keep something to 
pay for carriages and flowers for the hops.” 


A PLEBE 


16 

The treasurer didn’t smile, but a very fat 
clerk at the end of the room sat back in his 
chair and shook with inward mirth. 

In a few minutes the whole group concluded 
their affairs with the treasurer, marched to 
the hospital, stripped off their clothing, and 
sat wrapped in blankets awaiting their sum- 
mons to the examining room. 

Douglas sat with Roderick O’Connor, whom 
he had already found a charming and genial 
personality, and while a comrade stood before 
the surgeons within, Roderick convulsed his 
young friend with the story of his experience 
with the adjutant. 

“ You know,” he laughed, “ I was anxious 
to make a first-class start, so I stepped in with 
a merry 1 Good-morning, general, my name is 
Roderick O’Connor, Columbia University, 
class of ’9 — ,’ and I held out my hand for a 
friendly grasp. I thought it as little as he 
could do for a stranger, don’t you know, but 
that potentate — he must be a king at least — 
did not even look up for a full minute. I 
thought may be the poor fellow was deaf, so I 
squared around in front and tried my saluta- 
tion again. 


AT WEST POINT 


l 7 


“ This time something seemed to catch and 
he raised his eyes, but oh, mother ! such a 
stare. After looking me over from head to 
foot as if examining a set of pigeon-holes, he 
raised his eyebrows, twisted his moustache, 
and murmured, ‘ Your papers, please/ 

“ Right there I gathered that I was not sup- 
posed to be making a social call, so waited 
meekly until I was told ‘ to step outside/ ” 
The conversation was interrupted by the 
call of the hospital steward for the “ next can- 
didate,” and Douglas sprang up, flung off his 
blanket, and walked into the presence of the 
surgeons. It required but a few minutes to 
determine the physical fitness of this stalwart 
boy for the military service, and Douglas 
emerged from the ward, his heart leaping with 
joy that he had successfully passed through 
the first ordeal at West Point. 

“ I’m to take you over to barracks, sir,” said 
the soldier orderly, as Douglas finished dress- 
ing, and as our young friend with several 
other successful candidates followed the orderly 
down-stairs, he noticed the tears streaming 
down the face of one who had failed. He was 
the son of a retired army officer, had spent his 


A PLEBE 


entire life in preparation for this day, but in 
one moment the hopes of a lifetime were 
blasted ; for examinations, physical and 
mental, are conducted at West Point “ without 
partiality, favor, or affection.” It was impossi- 
ble, however, to do anything for the unsuc- 
cessful candidate, and Douglas moved along 
with his comrades, down the stone walk, 
through the east sally-port of the Academic 
Building, and into the area of barracks. 

Before the eyes of this anxious group rose 
the gray stone walls of the cadet barracks on 
two sides of the quadrangle, completed on the 
east by the Academic Building, and on the 
south by the cadet guard-house. Here genera- 
tions of cadets had come and gone, here were 
the scenes hallowed by the presence of Grant, 
Sherman, Sheridan, Lee, Johnston, all gone to 
the soldier’s grave, but still present in the 
spirit and traditions of the academy, and here 
candidate Douglas Atwell stood, as they had 
stood, at rigid attention before a cadet lieuten- 
ant to whom he endeavored to report his ar- 
rival. 

The corps of cadets was already in camp 
across the cavalry plain about eight hundred 


AT WEST POINT 


l 9 


yards distant, thus leaving barracks exclu- 
sively for the use of the “ plebes ” or “ beasts ” 
as the newcomers are called by cadet custom. 
Only Cadet Lieutenants Littlefield and Rowell, 
Cadet Corporals Swayne, Kendrick, and Mal- 
lory, were retained in barracks to take charge 
of the plebe class and drill them into 
shape. 

“ Read that paper on the wall,” said Cadet 
Corporal Kendrick, as he lined up his first 
squad of candidates in the hall of the tenth 
division of cadet barracks, with Douglas At- 
well at the head of the line. The paper ran 
as follows : 

(1) Read, and obey as you read. 

(2) Button your coat throughout. 

(3) Place your heels together, turn out 
your toes at an angle of sixty degrees, stand 
erect, head up, chest thrown out, shoulders 
back, eyes to the front, hands hanging nat- 
urally by the sides, little fingers at the seams 
of the trousers. This is the position of the 
soldier, and is always to be assumed by the 
cadet in the presence of his superior officer. 

(4) Never speak to a superior officer until 
you are spoken to. 


20 


A PLEBE 


(5) Refer to yourself and all other cadets 
and candidates as Mr. So-and-So. 

(6) Add “ sir ” to all official communica- 
tions. 

(7) Now face to the front, and await further 
instructions. 

“ Have you finished ? ” asked Cadet Corporal 
Mallory, as Douglas obeyed the final injunc- 
tion of paragraph seven, and made way for 
another candidate. 

“ Yes, sir,” said Douglas, his eyes straight 
to the front, and observing carefully every de- 
tail of the soldier’s position. 

“ What is your name ? ” 

“ Mr. Atwell, sir.” 

“ What state do you come from ? ” 

“ New York, sir.” 

“ Tin soldier? ” 

“ No, sir.” 

“ Then where did you bone (learn to be) so 
military ? ” 

Douglas hesitated. “ Step out with an an- 
swer, mister,” said the cadet officer testily. 

“ In the army, sir,” said Douglas. 

“ Oh-ho,” exclaimed the corporal, “ Sergeant 
Douglas Atwell, Company M, — th Infantry, 


AT WEST POINT 


21 


a hero from the Philippines, who won his way 
to West Point by being captured by a Filipino 
chieftain and subsequently capturing the 
chief. Is that about right, Mr. Atwell ? ” 

Douglas remained silent, restraining every 
sign of approval or of disapproval of the 
cadet’s remarks. 

“Well,” said the latter, smiling, “ you are 
not required to answer incriminating ques- 
tions, so step inside and report your heroic 
presence to Mr. Littlefield. The whole acad- 
emy awaits you, sir.” 

The sound of footsteps on the porch now 
attracted Mallory’s attention, and he whirled 
about as a second group of candidates arrived 
from the hospital. Among them was a tall, 
slender man, dressed throughout in a suit of 
severe, ministerial black, and armed with a 
heavy walking stick of polished oriental wood. 
A black slouch hat rested gracefully upon his 
long, wavy, black hair, while his mellow dark 
eyes, thin, aquiline nose, and wavy, black 
beard, completed the general features of a face 
of unusual beauty and dignity. 

At sight of him, Mallory’s manner instantly 
changed to one of extreme official courtesy as 


22 A PLEBE 

he stepped out upon the porch to greet the 
new arrival. 

“ Good-morning, sir,” said he. “ I regret 
that we cannot allow you to come into barracks, 
but you will be at perfect liberty to see the boy 
at any time that he is not on duty,” and Mal- 
lory shot a quick glance toward a slender, 
dark-eyed stripling who timidly awaited the 
will of his superiors. 

“ Ah beg yo’ pahdon, sah ” began the 

dark-eyed gentleman uneasily. 

“Just one moment, sir,” interrupted Mal- 
lory, and he hurriedly ushered the rest of the 
group into the hall of barracks, and returned 
to the gentleman with the remark, “ I believe 
you come from the south, sir.” 

“ Yes, sah, my name’s Jacques Lafitte Bru- 
yard, of Baton Rouge, Louisiana, sah, and ” 

“ I’m happy to meet you, Mr. Bruyard,” 
said Cadet Mallory, extending his hand, “ but 
if you will excuse me I will return to look 
after your son and the other candidates.” 

“ Ah beg yo’ pahdon, sah,” said Mr. Bru- 
yard, as his voice rose in excitement, “ ah 
haven’t got any son, sah. Ah’m a candidate, 
sah.” 


AT WEST POINT 


2 3 


“ What ! ” exclaimed Cadet Mallory — but he 
could say no more, and ducked into an adja- 
cent room, where, beyond the observation of 
candidates or comrades, he laughed till his 
sides ached. 

“ Stop that laughing in ranks,” commanded 
Cadet Kendrick with as much severity as he 
could muster, and while Douglas reported to 
Cadet Lieutenant Littlefield within, candidate 
Jacques Lafitte Bruyard, already dubbed “ the 
patriarch of Baton Rouge,” was hauled up to 
“ read that paper and obey as he read.” 

Douglas had no difficulty in making a sat- 
isfactory report to Cadet Lieutenant Littlefield, 
for his experience in the army, to which Mal- 
lory had referred, gave him an advantage 
which his comrades would acquire only after 
months of hard work at the academy. 

“ Swayne,” said the young cadet officer, as 
he registered Douglas’ name in his book of 
candidates, “ please take Mr. Atwell up to 
room No. 55, over in the fourth division.” 

Douglas turned his eyes neither to the right 
nor the left as he followed Cadet Corporal 
Swayne through the line of sadly worried can- 
didates, and bounded up two flights of stairs 


24 


A PLEBE 


to a “ plain room ” on the second floor of the 
fourth division. There were twelve divisions 
for the accommodation of the entire corps of 
cadets, each division having a separate hall 
and stairs, each floor having four rooms open- 
ing upon the hall. The rooms on the inside 
of the quadrangle are known as “ area rooms/’ 
while those looking out to the north upon the 
beautiful parade or plain, are called “ plain 
rooms,” and to one of the latter Douglas At- 
well had been conducted. 

“ You will draw bedding, etc., later, Mr. 
Atwell,” said Cadet Corporal Swayne. “ In 
the meantime, remain in your room unless 
you hear one of the cadet officers in the hall 
below turning out the candidates. Then come 
down-stairs at a run, and fall in as lively as 
you can.” 

“ Very well, sir,” said Douglas, as he stood as 
still as a statue, his traveling-bag in one hand, 
his hat in the other, and felt gratified that the 
peerless Swayne had no fault to find with 
him. 

Then the door closed and Douglas was 
alone in a bare room, the home of a West 
Point cadet. Two iron bunks without bed- 


AT WEST POINT 


2 5 


ding, separated from each other by the par- 
tition wall of a small alcove ; two wooden 
tables, a wash-stand, and a clothes-press, 
were the only articles of furniture in the 
room. 

Douglas walked slowly across the bare floor, 
but the sound of his feet seemed to echo harshly 
through the lonely barracks, so he tiptoed to 
the alcove, sat down upon the edge of the bed, 
and pushed his small traveling-bag into an 
adjacent corner. This, together with the 
clothes he carried, was all he had in the 
world. The money which he deposited that 
morning at the treasurer’s office had been bor- 
rowed from a friend, and that debt must 
remain unpaid until he could win his com- 
mission as an officer in the army and earn the 
money to pay it. He had traveled ten thou- 
sand miles in the hope of becoming a West 
Point cadet, had left the ranks of the Regular 
Army in the Philippines where, for his gallant 
service in the campaign against the Insurgents, 
he had been granted a cadetship at large to the 
United States Military Academy. 

Ex-Sergeant Douglas Atwell rested his chin 
upon his hand, and gazed abstractedly at the 


26 


A PLEBE 


bare, cheerless walls of the alcove. His mind 
traveled back across the wide Pacific to the 
jungles of bamboo and nipa, and he was a 
soldier again in the ranks of the khaki-clad 
fighting men beneath a blistering tropical sun. 
The bare walls of the alcove gradually gave 
place to a trench upon the banks of the 
Quingua, and Sergeant Douglas Atwell saw 
himself fighting desperately for life against a 
Moorish renegade, the most savage boloman 
in all Luzon ; saw Bill Smathers die to save 
his life, Bill Smathers, one of the bravest 
soldiers that ever carried a rifle. As these 
things passed in mental review, there was but 
one bitter memory — that of a soldier who had 
striven to ruin his reputation, who had, he 
believed, been false to his flag. 

The young soldier candidate was startled 
from his reverie by the sound of rapidly ap- 
proaching footsteps, and the angry tones of a 
voice. He jumped to rigid attention as the 
door of the room was flung violently open and 
Cadet Corporal S wayne ushered in another 
candidate. Almost purple with rage and em- 
barrassment, the candidate stood at attention, 
trembling in every limb, as the corporal 


AT WEST POINT 


27 


walked about him and delivered such a hur- 
ricane of reprimand and rebuke as Douglas 
had never heard even from the veteran tongue 
of Sergeant Jim Casey of the Regular Army. 
The language of the corporal was perfectly 
proper and strictly official, but the sarcasm 
and bitterness of it were beyond com- 
parison. 

Exactly what the unfortunate candidate 
had done to merit so severe a reprimand 
Douglas did not know, but the general trend 
of the rebuke indicated that the candidate had 
demanded the right to select his own room- 
mate on account of some special merit, or his 
social position, and that he objected to “ being 
housed with any vulgar country lout that 
might happen to be a classmate.” Certain it 
was that the arrogance of the candidate’s 
remarks could not exceed the superb indigna- 
tion of the corporal’s words as he majestically 
strode from the room, leaving the astonished 
candidate choking with wrath he dare not 
voice. 

As the door closed, Douglas turned his eyes 
for the first time toward the candidate, and 
his heart jumped as he recognized Leland 


28 


A PLEBE 


Carlyle Jackson, ex-private of Company M, 
— th Infantry, with which Douglas had 
served in the Philippine Islands. Here was 
the one man in the world whom he desired to 
avoid, but fate had not only decreed that 
they should be classmates, but had also placed 
them in the same room, from which it was 
impossible to escape without the sanction of 
superior authority. 

Jackson flung aside his dress-suit case with 
a bitter exclamation of anger as the sound of 
the corporal's steps died away in the lower 
hall, and turned his flushed face toward 
Douglas Atwell. As their eyes met Jackson 
drew back with a start and the blood left his 
face. 

“ How do you do, Jackson ? How are you?” 
said Douglas quietly, after a moment’s con- 
strained silence. 

“ What are you doing here?” demanded 
Jackson with a great effort at calmness. 

“ I am here to enter the academy if I can 
pass the examination,” answered Douglas. 

“ Who appointed you ? ” 

“ The President.” 

“ The President ! I thought you were here 


AT WEST POINT 


29 


as a dog robber /’ 1 sneered Jackson, as he 
turned and gazed out of the window across the 
plain to the white tents where the corps of 
cadets lay encamped. 

1 * ‘ Dog robber ’ ’ is a term of contempt used by enlisted men to 
designate a soldier who performs service for an officer. 


CHAPTER II 


FIRST EXPERIENCES 

Douglas Atwell had come to West Point 
determined to control his feelings and accept 
situations as he found them, so he held back 
the bitter words that rose to his lips at Jack- 
son’s insulting remark. Any rejoinder might 
lead to a personal encounter, for the antece- 
dent relations of Douglas Atwell and Leland C. 
Jackson were such as to invite serious results 
at any time. It was a great relief to Douglas, 
therefore, when he heard a ringing call through 
the halls of cadet barracks, “ Candidates turn 
out promptly.” 

Douglas seized his hat, carefully buttoned 
his coat throughout, and dashed down-stairs 
as rapidly as he could run, while Jackson con- 
tinued to gaze leisurely out of the window. 
During his ordeal with Cadet Corporal Swayne 
he had received the regular instructions of a 
candidate, but his mind was too much dis- 
turbed to grasp their import. He had a vague 
3 ° 


AT WEST POINT 


3 1 


impression that he was expected to “ turn out 
promptly/’ but in the army, five minutes were 
always allowed between the first call and as- 
sembly, and he assumed that it ought to be 
the same at West Point. At any rate, he felt 
that he could not participate in the vulgar, 
undignified haste of Atwell and the other 
“ beasts ” in the halls below. 

In their efforts to obey the instructions of 
the morning, to be prompt, the majority of 
these “ beasts ” were tumbling into ranks in 
the most grotesque manner when Douglas 
reached the “ area of barracks ” and took his 
place in the rear rank on the left of the 
line. 

Cadet Corporal Swayne, the acting first ser- 
geant for the candidates, was standing erect 
and vigilant in front of the centre of the line, 
the very personification of dignity and mili- 
tary precision, while his assistants, Kendrick 
and Mallory, were supervising the formation 
of the line on the asphalt walk running east 
and west across the area of barracks. Douglas 
had scarcely reached his place when the sound 
of running steps was heard behind him, and 
some one bolted violently into his back, knock- 


32 


A PLEBE 


ing him against his front ran|: file, and send- 
ing the latter’s hat spinning to the earth. In 
fact the whole left of the line was thrown into 
confusion by the impetus of the blow. 

“ What are you trying to celebrate, mis- 
ter?” demanded Cadet Corporal Kendrick as 
he hastened toward the scene of disorder, and 
was soon followed by Mallory, likewise highly 
incensed over this flagrant disregard of mili- 
tary propriety. 

“ What is your name, sir?” said Corporal 
Mallory. 

“ J-jack Oakley,” giggled the candidate. 

“ Sir? ” echoed both the cadet officers in in- 
dignant tones. 

“ Jack Oakley — that’s my name,” said the 
boy innocently, as he glanced merrily from 
face to face, and thrust his hands into his 
trousers pockets. 

“ Take your hands out of your pockets,” 
commanded the senior corporal. “ Put your 
hat on straight. Keep your eyes to the 
front, and stop that smiling, sir. Now get 
into ranks — not there, not there,” continued 
the corporal with increasing emphasis, as 
little Oakley jumped in behind Douglas At- 


AT WEST POINT 


33 

well, thus forming a third rank all by him- 
self. 

“ Stand right here, Mr. Oakley, right here, 
sir, do you understand ? ” 

“Oh, all right — I thought ” 

“ Never mind what you thought. Get into 
ranks, sir.” And Mr. Oakley was finally 
stopped in the proper place. The same result 
might have been accomplished by taking Mr. 
Oakley by the arm and forcibly depositing 
him in ranks, but it is contrary to cadet cus- 
tom to lay hands on a candidate. 

This was the first formation of the pros- 
pective class of 190-, and few there were 
in that line who had not committed some 
violation of that paper which all had been 
commanded that morning to “ read and 
obey.” 

Acting First-Sergeant Swayne was now 
calling the roll, “ Adamson, Addison, Atwell, 
etc.,” and Douglas heard the characteristic 
responses of the various states, “ He-o, he-ah, 
lie-ere, hy-er, he-e,” for there is nothing which 
betrays the peculiarities of the tongue more 
surely than the effort to say “ here ” in a loud 
and sonorous tone. 


34 


A PLEBE 


The list had reached the J’s and Douglas 
heard “ Jackson — Jackson — Jackson ” 

“ Mr. Atwell, where is Mr. Jackson ? ” said 
Cadet Corporal Mallory, who was still hover- 
ing near little Oakley to keep that youth in 
good order. 

“ I left him in his room, sir,” said Douglas. 

Cadet Mallory was bounding up the steps 
in front of the fourth division when Jackson 
appeared on the porch, very spick and span, 
having utilized the time in drawing on a pair 
of fine kid gloves ; and the words of Cadet 
Mallory would be worthy of a place in this 
record were it not for a diversion in another 
direction. 

Like many inexperienced candidates, Dur- 
kin, the big Missourian, had discovered from 
the window of the eleventh division of 
cadet barracks that he was getting an “ ab- 
sence.” He had already learned in a never- 
to-be-forgotten manner some of the funda- 
mental principles of discipline as taught by 
cadet officers, and he was still trying to decide 
whether he would not “ lick the next one that 
pestered him, just to show them what kind of 
a man he was,” when he heard the roll call 


AT WEST POINT 


35 


and discovered “ that formation ” going on in 
the area of barracks. And the thought came 
flaming through Durkin's mind that his class 
was forming to be sworn in, and that they 
were leaving him out just for spite. Durkin 
had come all the way from Missouri to take 
that oath, and he did not propose to be left by 
trickery. Snapping up his silk hat, he started 
down-stairs at a terrific pace, and the whole 
line could hear him coming. 

The porch of the eleventh division had 
just been scrubbed, the bucket of water was 
still standing at the top of the steps, and the 
floor was wet and slippery when Durkin 
dashed out of the door. A more cautious 
man would have checked his speed ; not so 
with Durkin. As he reached the top step 
both feet shot forward, and Durkin went 
crashing to the bottom of the steps followed 
by the bucket of water. His silk hat fell be- 
neath him and was crushed flat to the earth, 
while the force of the fall split the back of 
his Prince Albert coat. 

The fall must have hurt the Missourian 
severely, but he gamely pulled himself to his 
feet, and in his haste to straighten up the 


A PLEBE 


3 6 

crushed hat, he drove his fist through the top. 
Still undaunted, Durkin clapped the hat on 
the back of his head, and with the crown 
flopping up and down, his coat sadly rent, and 
dripping with water, he started running for 
the line. 

Not a cadet officer smiled, but nearly the 
whole line of prospective plebes was in a 
titter. 

“ Oh, golly, look at that tile,” giggled little 
Oakley, and clapping both hands over his 
mouth he tried to smother the laughter, 
which pealed through his fingers and was 
heard from end to end of the line. 

“ Stop that laughing, Mr. Oakley, stop that 
laughing, sir,” commanded the cadet officers, 
in such severe tones that the more timid were 
frightened into obedience, but little Oakley 
continued to laugh until the tears streamed 
down his cheeks, and as the line faced to the 
right and marched off toward the cadet store, 
little Jack Oakley was ordered back to his 
room for further disciplining. 

Douglas felt gratified that he had been able 
to maintain a dignified bearing, and had not 
allowed himself to smile or turn his eyes to- 


AT WEST POINT 


37 


ward this grotesque spectacle. One year’s 
service in the ranks of the Regular Army and 
the sobering experience of the battle-field had 
matured him before his time, and had given 
him something of that same self-control which 
made these dignified cadet officers seem of 
different clay from the line of awkward, 
giggling candidates. Though still but a boy 
himself, it was clear to Douglas that strenuous 
measures were necessary to reduce the crudi- 
ties of these young men, impress them with 
the dignity of their calling, and force them to 
live up to the exalted creed of a West Point 
cadet. 

The candidates had no idea why they were 
turned out or where they were going, but anx- 
iety on this score was soon put at rest as the 
line halted in front of the basement of the 
cadet store, and they saw a number of men 
waiting beside a large heap of mattresses. 
The rooms were to be furnished. 

“ Mr. Adamson,” called Cadet Lieutenant 
Rowell. 

“ Here, sir,” said a lanky son of Kentucky. 

“ Have you a roommate ? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 


38 


A PLEBE 


“ Who is he ? ” 

“ Hicks.” 

“ Who ? ” (more sternly). 

“ Mr. Hicks.” 

“ Who ? ” (still more sternly). 

“ Mr. Hicks, sir.” 

“ Very well, sir, don’t forget hereafter to 
add 1 sir 1 to every official communication. 
Mr. Hicks.” 

“ Here, sir,” answered a chubby faced lad 
from New York whose round shoulders, un- 
military bearing, and untrained muscles were 
in sorry contrast with the erect, alert, and 
manly figure of the cadet lieutenant. 

The attendants had already placed two 
chairs in front of the candidates, and upon 
each chair were rapidly piled the following 
articles : — one small mattress, one pillow, one 
comfortable, two sheets, one pillow-case, and 
one galvanized bucket. 

“ Mr. Adamson, you will also carry these 
articles for the room,” continued the cadet 
officer, as the pile in his chair was augmented 
by one wash-bowl, one looking-glass, and one 
dipper. 

“ Now pick up your chairs and carry those 


AT WEST POINT 


39 

articles to your rooms. Promptly, promptly, 
everything at once, Mr. Hicks.” 

Only the effect of the sad experience of Mr. 
Oakley a few minutes before restrained the 
laughter, as “ Chubby ” Hicks’ nose was 
tilted high in the air in an effort to see over 
the top of the pile which was already begin- 
ning to slip from his inexperienced grasp. 
He had not gone far before “ Chubby,” bed- 
ding, and bucket were in a hopeless mix-up, 
and Cadet Corporal Kendrick was severely 
“ admonishing ” Mr. Hicks when Addison 
and his roommate Durkin were called. 

The spectacle of the big Missourian with 
his ruined garments and arms full of bedding, 
caused many explosions of laughter, all of 
which were severely reprimanded by the cadet 
officers, and then came Atwell and Jackson. 

“ Take off those kid gloves, Mr. Jackson,” 
said Cadet Lieutenant Rowell, “ and never 
turn out again with anything but bare hands 
until regulation gloves have been issued to 
you.” 

Jackson flushed crimson as he pulled off 
the daintily scented kids and thrust them sul- 
lenly into his pocket. He was still trem- 


40 


A PLEBE 


bling with rage over the “ brutal abuse that 
had been heaped upon him ” when he asked 
to select his own roommate, and again when 
he “ happened to delay a little ” at the forma- 
tion in the area of barracks ; and now this 
new insolence about “ his personal attire ” 
was aggravated by the indignity of having 
to lug his bedding on his back like a common 
pack-mule. 

As Jackson flung everything with a crash 
into the alcove, and wiped his perspiring 
face, he for a moment forgot his hostility 
to Douglas Atwell in the bitterness of his re- 
sentment against these insolent cadet officers. 
He had been at West Point for less than three 
hours, but he had already received three sting- 
ing reprimands, and was mentally searching 
for some means of getting “ square ” for the 
insults and injustice that had been done 
him. 

Douglas promptly arranged his bedding 
and other effects according to the regula- 
tions he had learned in the army, drew out 
the few books he carried in his traveling-bag, 
and sat down at one of the tables to prepare 
for the mental ordeal through which the 


AT WEST POINT 


4i 


candidates must soon pass. Jackson, on the 
other hand, left his effects in a disorderly 
heap in the corner and returned to the 
window to gaze out upon the plain, across 
which a small body of cadets was marching 
to camp. Perhaps a half hour had passed 
when the sharp call again rang out through 
barracks, “ Candidates turn out promptly ! ” 

And this time Jackson dashed down-stairs 
with commendable alacrity, forgetting, how- 
ever, to button his coat, and once more suffer- 
ing a sharp rebuke. The line formed now in 
a more orderly manner, was divided into four 
sections, and marched to the four separate 
rooms occupied by the cadet officers. Douglas 
happened to be with the squad that marched 
to the room of Cadet Lieutenant Littlefield, 
the superior cadet officer over candidates, and 
perhaps no other man in the academy was 
better fitted for this important duty. His 
manner was quiet but commanding, his words 
dignified but firm, and his every suggestion 
seemed to carry the weight of an order. 

“ Arrange yourselves in four ranks across 
the room,’’ said the young officer quietly, 
“and stand at ease. You have been called 


42 


A PLEBE 


here to invite your attention to the relations 
you hold to your superior officers, and then 
to show you the prescribed method of arrang- 
ing your bedding and other effects according 
to regulations. 

“ Firstly, I wish every man to understand 
that he, as a candidate and subsequently as a 
new cadet, is expected to conduct himself as 
becomes a cadet and gentleman. It is im- 
possible to enunciate a formula which would 
cover every case that might arise, but every 
one instinctively understands the meaning of 
these words. You are expected to obey in- 
structions without question or hesitancy, and 
to respond with a promptness to which you 
have never before been accustomed. You are 
not to go near the camp or other places 
frequented by upper classmen, and after you 
have been admitted as new cadets you are to 
regard the performance of any menial service 
for an upper classman as degrading and you 
should refuse to perform such service. We 
will instruct you thoroughly on this matter at 
a later date. 

“ Now in regard to your military duties, 
you will be awakened by the drums to- 


AT WEST POINT 


43 


morrow morning at five o'clock, and you will 
fall in, in the area of barracks, for reveille 
roll-call. Immediately thereafter you will go 
to your rooms, fold your mattresses from the 
bottom upward in this manner," and the 
young officer laid his hand upon his neatly 
piled bedding in the alcove. Cadet Lieu- 
tenant Littlefield then quickly and clearly 
illustrated the method of making up beds 
which has been followed by every cadet for 
the last half century at the military academy. 

“ Now," said he, “ are there any questions 
you would like to ask ? If not, you will now 
return direct to your rooms and make up your 
beds without delay as I have indicated." 

As Douglas Atwell left the room he was 
thrilled with admiration for the gallant young 
cadet officer, and resolved with all the ardor 
of his young heart to realize the requirement 
imposed upon a “ cadet and gentleman," and 
rise equal to the demands of his new calling. 
Having already arranged his room according 
to requirements, he at once resumed study 
with renewed energy upon the books which 
covered the coming examination, and he was 
still ploding away when the familiar roll of 


44 


A PLEBE 


the drum over at cadet camp announced the 
recall from drills and the approach of the 
dinner hour. Just then Jackson dashed into 
the room. 

His clothing was disheveled, his face was 
damp with perspiration and livid with anger. 
Instead of obeying the orders of Cadet Lieu- 
tenant Littlefield to “ return direct to his 
room,” he had wandered into the gymnasium, 
where he had encountered some upper class- 
men from camp. Their demand for an ex- 
planation of Jackson’s presence was met by 
his rejoinder that it was “ none of their busi- 
ness.” An exchange of words ensued which 
finally resulted in giving Jackson the alterna- 
tive of an immediate fight or an immediate 
apology, and the frightened candidate chose 
the latter. 

“ That’s what’s the matter with Jackson,” 
said Roderick O’Connor, as he hurried along 
beside Douglas on the way down to dinner 
formation. “ I was there, I’m sorry to say, 
but I didn’t give any back talk, and so I got 
off without trouble.” 

All the candidates and their alternates 
had arrived, one hundred and seventy-five in 


AT WEST POINT 


45 

all, and the line which they formed extended 
half-way across the area of barracks. 

Acting First Sergeant Swayne finished the 
roll-call, and facing about reported “ All pres- 
ent, sir,” to Cadet Lieutenant Littlefield. 

“ Fall out, Mr. Atwell, and take right guide,” 
said the latter. “ Mr. King take left guide.” 

Douglas’ heart leaped joyously as he 
marched briskly to the right of the line. 
It was apparent that Cadet Lieutenant Little- 
field had already heard of his experience as a 
soldier, and was ready to recognize and make 
use of his knowledge. Jackson, the only 
other man in the ranks with a similar ex- 
perience, was utterly ignored. 

The shrill notes of the fife and the rattle of 
the drums could be heard across the plain as 
the battalion of cadets marched from camp 
toward the Mess Hall, and “ Littlefield’s 
beasts ” finally succeeded in counting fours 
and marched away with Douglas Atwell as 
leading guide. Out of step, out of line, out 
of order, the candidates bobbed along, mob- 
like, behind the young soldier, across the area 
of barracks, and between the Mess Hall and 
the Academic Building. 


46 


A PLEBE 


“ Candidates halt!” commanded Cadet Lieu- 
tenant Littlefield, as the head of the column 
reached the road. 

There came the battalion of cadets in column 
of platoons not one hundred yards distant. 
With his head erect and eyes straight to 
the front, Douglas could only partially see 
them until the fife and drum corps marched 
in front of him, wheeled out of column to the 
left, and continued to play that rattling march, 
“ The Hungry Squad,” to which generations 
of cadets have marched in the same inimita- 
ble style. How the chills crept over the boy 
as the battalion, in gray blouses and immacu- 
late white duck trousers, swept into his field 
of view. Not a waver in the whole column, 
that magnificent body of young men was 
marching as if controlled by the single will of 
a single man. With front straight as a ruler’s 
edge, the first platoon of A Company swung 
past, and not an eye turned, not a head moved 
in the direction of the group of candidates 
halted upon their flank. 

u Column right ! ” came the deep voice of 
the senior cadet captain, commanding the 
battalion. “ Right turn ! ” commanded the 


AT WEST POINT 


47 

lieutenant of the leading platoon, repeating 
the command “ March ! ” of his senior captain. 
The right guide of the leading platoon turned 
abruptly to the right flank, and the whole 
platoon swung across the wide pavement at 
short step, broke ranks, sprang up the steps of 
Grant Hall, and disappeared within. One by 
one the platoons followed, and as the last one 
passed, the clear voice of Cadet Lieutenant 
Littlefield rang out above the noise of the fife 
and drum corps, “ Forward march ! ” 

In a few moments Douglas Atwell was 
seated with nine prospective classmates as 
“ gunner” 1 of a table in Grant Hall, the mess 
of the corps of cadets since 1850. The unfor- 
tunate Durkin with his crushed hat and sadly 
bedraggled Prince Albert, sat at the other ex- 
tremity of the table, the butt of the jibes and 
witticisms of the “yearlings” 2 and a source of 
intense amusement to all who saw him. His 
threat that “ he would lick ’em ” had already 
reached the corps, and it was clear that he 
would have every opportunity to try, if he 


1 Gunner : Name applied to candidate or plebe who serves the 
soup, etc. , at table. 

2 Yearling : Cadet in his second year at the academy. 


A PLEBE 


48 

ever reached cadet camp. The meal passed 
without drawing a retort from the big Mis- 
sourian, the battalion marched away in match- 
less order behind the fife and drum, and the 
candidates finally managed to get back to bar- 
racks. 

“Examinations will begin to-morrow morn- 
ing at eight o’clock, at Rooms 101 and 102, 
Academic Building,” announced Cadet Lieu- 
tenant Littlefield before dismissing his can- 
didates, and Douglas at once returned to his 
room and resumed study. 

Ten minutes later he was standing at rigid 
attention while Cadet Lieutenant Littlefield 
was demanding from Jackson an explanation 
as to why his bed was not made up according 
to instructions, and upon his failure to ex- 
plain, Jackson was ordered to report to Cap- 
tain Barton, the commissioned officer of the 
army charged with the supervision of candi- 
dates. 

Jackson remained absent until supper time, 
and that night it became known that he had 
justified himself by reporting the gymnasium 
incident, thus causing an investigation and 
the arrest of Cadets Hartz and Farrington of 


AT WEST POINT 


49 


the third class and Cadet Lieutenant Horton, 
one of the most popular men in the first class. 

Camp was in a ferment. An excited group 
of “ yearlings ” gathered about the class presi- 
dent in one of the company streets, and all 
clamored at once for the opportunity to speak. 

“Jackson and Durkin are the ‘ B.J’est ’ 1 
(freshest) beasts that ever came to barracks,” 
said big Stockley, the tackle on the football 
team, “and I am ready to fight either of them 
or both of them at the drop of a hat. Ac- 
cording to the information we have,” he con- 
tinued, “ Durkin is merely blustering like 
many a candidate before the play begins, and 
a few ‘ soirees 7 will probably straighten him 
out all right ; but this fellow, Jackson, is a dif- 
ferent proposition. He openly asserted su- 
periority over his own classmates, and is there- 
fore a cad. Next he disobeyed the legal orders 
of the cadet officer over him, went to the gym- 
nasium, was insolent, invited a fight, crawled 
out of it, and finally made a quibbling expla- 
nation of his failure to obey orders by report- 
ing the cadets who hazed him. His room- 

1 The source and original meaning of the expression “ B.J.” are 
obscure. It has been in use for many years at West Point as a 
synonym for “freshness,” or excessive “bumptiousness.” 


5 ° 


A PLEBE 


mate, Atwell I believe his name is, had plenty 
of time to make up his bed, and they say 
Jackson was in the room all the time Atwell 
was at work, but we are not yet sure of that. 
Squealing on the upper-classmen was bad 
enough, but if it is true that Jackson made 
the gymnasium incident an excuse for his 
failure to make up his bed, then he has falsi- 
fied, is guilty of conduct unbecoming a cadet 
and gentleman, and should be given no place 
among us.” 

“Wait,” said the class president, “ until 
they have come to camp, and we have all the 
facts in the case. In the meantime, let them 
alone.” 

And from every direction came loud ex- 
pressions of approval of Stockley’s speech, as 
the yearlings broke up and started to their 
tents, for the drums were rattling off tattoo, 
the signal to make down beds and get ready 
for retiring. 

This was the situation on the night of June 
6th, when three “ taps ” were sounded on the 
drum in the area of cadet barracks at 10 p. m., 
and Douglas Atwell closed his books, turned 
out the lights, and jumped into bed, while 


AT WEST POINT 


5 1 


Cadet Corporal Swayne, rushing from room 
to room with a dark lantern, assured himself 
that every candidate was present and in bed. 

Jackson lay in his cot on the other side of 
the alcove, striving to “ make a case.” Only 
absolutely necessary conversation had passed 
between these two boys who for nearly a year 
had served together as soldiers of Company M, 
— th Infantry, during the campaign in the 
Philippines. 

The Spanish-American War had closed, and 
insurrection was brewing in the Philippines 
when Douglas Atwell reached his eighteenth 
birthday and secured his widowed mother’s 
permission to enlist in the army. He reached 
the islands just in time to witness the out- 
break of hostilities, and the next day he par- 
ticipated in the never-to-be-forgotten charge 
on blockhouse No. 14, and by his conspicuous 
gallantry instantly won the esteem of one of 
the best companies in the service. Immedi- 
ately after the battle, while searching for 
wounded, Douglas suddenly came upon a 
soldier who had shirked the dangers of that 
terrible charge and was hiding in the under- 
brush in the rear of the line. This man was 


5 2 


A PLEBE 


Private Leland Carlyle Jackson, son of a rich 
and influential politician, and formerly a stu- 
dent in one of the great universities of the 
Pacific coast. 

From that day Jackson made every effort 
to discredit Atwell in the eyes of his superior 
officers, and had it not been for the sterling 
qualities of Lieutenant Milton, the company 
commander, a young graduate of the United 
States Military Academy, Jackson would 
probably have succeeded. Finally, under 
circumstances which threw the gravest sus- 
picions on Jackson’s complicity in the plot, 
Douglas was captured by Vicente Prado, an 
Insurgent chieftain, and subsequently escaped, 
while two of his comrades, prisoners like him- 
self, were being assassinated in the Insurgent 
camp. That night he led a party of American 
troops through the jungle and personally cap- 
tured Vicente Prado, “ the most dangerous 
and prominent Insurgent chieftain in northern 
Luzon,” thus terminating the Insurrection in 
that part of the Philippines. Upon his tri- 
umphant return to his old comrades, Douglas 
found that Jackson had secured his discharge 
from the service by favor of the secretary of 


AT WEST POINT 


53 


war, and believing that this man had forever 
passed out of his life, Douglas resolved to 
conceal the facts, known only to himself, and 
thus forever close this volume of his life. 

For his gallant service in the capture of 
Vicente Prado, Douglas was awarded a cadet- 
ship at large to the military academy ; and 
now as he lay wide awake upon his cot, a 
roommate and prospective classmate of this 
man who had so grossly wronged him, he re- 
solved once more to conceal his suspicions as 
to Jackson’s character, and leave his fitness 
for service at the military academy to be de- 
termined by his lawful superiors and by the 
code of honor of the United States corps of 
cadets. 


CHAPTER III 


EXAMINATION 

When the candidates took seats at breakfast 
on the morning of June 7th, it was apparent 
that Jackson’s gymnasium episode had stirred 
the entire corps to its depths. Cadet Lieuten- 
ant Horton of the first class, and Cadets Hartz 
and Farrington of the third, were still in ar- 
rest awaiting the action of the superintendent. 
The upper classmen were holding practically 
no conversation, but from time to time a face 
was turned in the direction in which Jackson 
sat, and clearly his conduct in this affair was 
the only subject that interested them that 
morning. 

It was necessary, however, to restrain all ex- 
ternal expression of the feelings that surged 
through the corps, for Captain McAuley, the 
officer in charge, walked slowly up and down 
the Mess Hall, and it would be a reckless 
cadet indeed who would openly risk a charge 
of hazing to express his resentment of Jack- 
54 


AT WEST POINT 


55 


son’s conduct. Moreover, Colonel Mills, the 
new superintendent, had already expressed 
strong disapproval of the system of hazing 
that had grown up at the academy, and had 
asserted his belief that the system should be 
crushed at any cost. His immediate assist- 
ants in the execution of this design were 
the commandant of cadets, and the tactical 
officers, one of whom is assigned to each of 
the six cadet companies. While it is the 
duty of each tactical officer to exercise special 
supervision over his own company, they all 
take turns on duty as officer in charge of the 
whole battalion of cadets, so that at all times, 
during the day and night, an officer is on 
duty to meet any emergency that may arise. 

In spite of the presence of Captain McAuley, 
however, the yearlings near Douglas’ table 
were able to covertly direct a few remarks to- 
ward Durkin that did not contribute to his 
peace of mind. 

“ Ah, Mr. Durkin, I believe,” said one of 
these, as he finished his breakfast and ap- 
peared to address his remarks to a classmate, 
“ Mr. Durkin, from Missouri, who proposes to 
‘ lick ’em.’ Would Mr. Durkin from Mis- 


A PLEBE 


56 

souri please state his weight, that is, his fight- 
ing weight, and say when he would like to 
go through the motions of licking his first 
man?” 

But Mr. Durkin was silent and humble. 
He had already confided to his roommate 
that he “ was not looking for a fight with any 
one, that he was all out of condition and 
didn’t think he could lick a cat.” A very 
small derby, borrowed from his roommate, 
had replaced the ruined silk hat, but he was 
forced to wear the Prince Albert, which he 
had roughly repaired ; for Durkin was the 
type of man who prefers to invest all his 
capital in one dashing costume rather than 
distribute it in several modest sack suits. It 
was a source of great relief to him, then, when 
the senior captain walked through the Mess 
Hall on his tour of table inspections, and halt- 
ing in the centre of the hall, commanded in 
succession, 

“ C and D Companies, rise ! ” 

“ B and E Companies, rise ! ” 

“ A and F Companies, rise ! ” 

In a few moments the battalion was march- 
ing back to camp, and the candidates were 


AT WEST POINT 


57 

entering the area of barracks with our soldier 
candidate as leading guide. 

“ You will always fall in hereafter as right 
guide, Mr. Atwell, whenever the candidates 
form, ,, said Littlefield, as he dismissed his 
“ command.” 

“ Very well, sir,” said Douglas, his face 
flushing slightly with the joy he felt at this 
recognition of his military ability, and then 
he dashed off to his room to utilize the re- 
maining moments before eight o’clock in prep- 
aration for the examination. 

At five minutes to eight the entire line 
formed in obedience to the usual call, and 
just as the big clock in the tower of the 
Academic Building tolled off* eight ponderous 
strokes, the prospective class of 19 — marched 
into rooms 101 and 102 on the ground floor. 

Each candidate had been required to draw 
from a box a slip bearing a number, and it 
was this number, not his name, that he re- 
corded on the upper right hand corner of his 
paper, and in obedience to strict instructions 
he was to reveal this number to no person dur- 
ing the progress of the examination. Upon 
the conclusion thereof, and after the decision 


A PLEBE 


58 

of the Academic Board as to the fitness of the 
candidates, an envelope containing this num- 
ber and the candidate’s name would be opened 
and thus reveal the identity of the men who 
had won the right to march in the ranks of 
the “ black and gold and gray.” 

“ You will be allowed two hours in which 
to complete this paper on arithmetic,” said the 
officer in charge of the examination, “ but you 
may leave the room as soon as you have com- 
pleted your work. You will then be. formed 
again at 10 : 30 a. m., and will be marched 
back here for your examination in English. 
Now record your number in the place left va- 
cant for it, do not in any way indicate your 
name, and then go to work.” 

Our young friend inscribed the number 69 
in the upper right hand corner of his paper, 
and realized, with a sense of awe, that he and 
every other candidate in that room was no 
more to the military academy than a cabal- 
istic sign, a sign representing an unknown, 
numbered machine, whose availability de- 
pended upon its power to perform a prescribed 
task. Herein, however, lies the strength of 
the military academy, for the son of the mil- 


AT WEST POINT 


59 


lionaire and the penniless lad from the fields 
are thus reduced to a plane of absolute equal- 
ity. Here, there is no superiority except that 
of achievement, no inferiority except that of 
failure, either mental or moral. 

Vaguely realizing all this, Douglas vigor- 
ously set to work on the assigned task. He 
and all his companions must pass a satisfac- 
tory examination in reading, writing and spell- 
ing, arithmetic, algebra, plane geometry, Eng- 
lish grammar, English composition, and Eng- 
lish literature, geography, history, physiology 
and hygiene, and failure in any one of these 
subjects means complete failure to secure an 
appointment as a cadet. 

Our young friend possessed but a meagre 
preparation for this trying ordeal. He was 
the son of a poor farmer in eastern New York 
who died when Douglas was but five years of 
age, thus leaving a large family in serious 
financial straits. The proceeds from an en- 
forced sale of the property barely sufficed to 
pay the debts against it, and Douglas and his 
mother were forced to take up quarters in a 
little tenant house on a lonely road of the 
Shawangunk Mountains, and there live on the 


6o 


A PLEBE 


small earnings of his elder brothers, who had 
secured employment on the adjacent farms. 
But through the fiercest snow-storms that 
swept these bleak hills, Douglas Atwell daily 
walked the three miles of country road to the 
little district school, where only a dozen pupils, 
ranging in age from seven to twenty-one 
years, received instruction from a seventeen 
year old girl of a neighboring village. At the 
age of thirteen, moreover, he was forced to 
suspend his studies each summer and become 
a farm hand at a salary of five dollars a 
month, with the privilege of attending school 
during the winter months after “ tendin’ to 
all th’ chores araound th’ farm.” With great 
assiduity, however, he pursued his studies at 
every opportunity, and when he was enlisted 
at the age of eighteen he was fairly well versed 
in the fundamentals of the common school 
subjects. On his departure from the Philip- 
pines, Lieutenant Milton, his company com- 
mander, had given him a complete outline of 
the subjects to be mastered, and with unflag- 
ging energy he had studied night and day for 
the past two months. And now as he eagerly 
worked away at the task before him, he re- 


AT WEST POINT 


61 


alized the value of the assistance given him, 
but all this was necessary to offset the inferi- 
ority of his early training. 

Within an hour after entering the room, 
Adamson, the lanky Kentuckian, walked 
slowly up to the desk and turned in his paper. 
He was followed a few moments later by Jack- 
son, while Roderick O’Connor and the “ patri- 
arch of Baton Rouge ” came next. One by 
one the candidates finished their papers and 
left the room, and only fifteen minutes were 
left when Douglas completed his work and 
raised his eyes. 

Not more than a dozen were still bending 
over their tasks, and among these were big 
Durkin, his face dripping with perspiration, 
and little Jack Oakley, who for the first time 
seemed serious as he gazed at the frayed end 
of a lead pencil from which he had chewed 
two inches of wood. The rest were nervously 
gazing at their unfinished sheets, while the 
officers were slowly walking among them to 
make quite sure that no inspirations might 
come from illegal sources. 

“ Turn in your papers, gentlemen,” said the 
presiding officer as the time expired, and 


62 


A PLEBE 


Douglas turned over the work on which his 
fate must depend, but the last fifteen minutes 
of his time had been utilized to good advan- 
tage in eliminating every possible ambiguity 
or error of carelessness, and the result repre- 
sented his very best effort. No sheet turned 
in that morning could excel his for neatness 
and order, for he was a natural penman and 
draftsman, whose ability in this respect had 
won the favorable notice of officers of high 
rank in the Philippines. 

“If it all depended upon penmanship I 
would feel easy,” mused Douglas, as he dashed 
up the stairs of the fourth division to take his 
last look at English grammar. Roderick 
O’Connor appeared in the hall as he paused 
on the threshold of the door. 

“ Hello, old bamboo,” said he with a friendly 
chuckle, “ how did you make out on the 
exam. ? ” 

“ Well, if I got through, all the rest ought 
to,” answered Douglas, as he glanced into the 
room and perceiving no one present he added, 
“ Where is Jackson ? ” 

“ Over at the big chief’s office. They’re 
after him again about that gymnasium party, 


AT WEST POINT 63 

and from all that I see and hear at this place, 
I gather that trouble is ‘ brewin’ ’ for Jack. I 
tell you I was a philosopher to keep my mouth 
shut, and when they called me over I had 
little to say and got out in a hurry. Listen ! 
There’s some one coming. Great Scott ! I 
forgot about inspection,” and “ Rory ” dashed 
up-stairs as fast as his athletic legs could carry 
him to put his shoes straight, dust off his 
mantel, e.tc., whereas three days before he was 
lounging in his comfortable “ den ” at home, 
and laughing at the efforts of “ Bibsie ” to 
keep him in order. 

Douglas, too, was busy, for though Jackson 
had been detailed as “ room-orderly ” and as 
such was responsible for the condition of the 
room, yet he had left all his effects in a state 
of disorder. 

Quickly emptying and inverting the wash- 
bowl, Douglas then rearranged the disordered 
towels, closed Jackson’s dress-suit case, which 
lay open on the bed, thrust it into a corner, 
swept a towel across the mantel and managed 
to get it out of his hands when the dashing 
Swayne rapped sharply on the door and strode 
into the room. 


A PLEBE 


64 

Douglas stood at attention as the young in- 
specting officer walked about the room appar- 
ently unconscious of the presence of any one, 
and then swept his white gloved hand across 
the mantel, but the glove remained unsoiled, 
and with this satisfactory proof of cleanliness, 
Swayne turned toward the door. He paused 
with his hand on the knob and surveying 
Douglas from head to foot, asked in his sharp, 
businesslike manner, “ Did you ever play foot- 
ball, Mr. Atwell ? ” 

“ No, sir.” 

“ Do you want to play ? ” 

“ I think I would like to, if I can pass the 
examination.” 

“ You will pass without trouble. How 
much do you weigh ? ” 

“ One hundred and sixty pounds, sir.” 

“ The football captain will call for all the 
successful candidates who desire to play, and 
I would like to see you come out, Mr. Atwell. 
I think you can play the game.” 

“Very well, sir,” said Douglas, more de- 
lighted at the assumption that he would pass 
the examination than at the implied compli- 
ment to his athletic ability. 


65 


AT WEST POINT 

Just as the dapper S wayne left the room, 
Jackson mounted, to the head of the stairs, 
and an instant*, later stepped inside. He 
glanced quickly about and asked nervously, 
“ Who straightened up the room?” 

“ i dhq,” said Douglas. “ I heard Mr. 
bwaynqt CO ming and knew that you had been 
called away, so I put your things in order to 
avo hd more trouble.” 

“ My dress-suit case was on the bed ? ” 

“ Yes, I closed it and put it in the corner.” 

Jackson’s eyes suddenly lit up with a pe- 
culiar gleam, and he drew in his breath con- 
vulsively between his teeth. 

“ Thank you,” he said after a moment, and 
then turned to the window, while a peculiar 
expression of malicious satisfaction played 
over his face. 

Douglas felt a little shiver creep over him 
as he watched his old-time enemy, for he had 
seen that look before, and experience taught 
him that it meant danger, }^et he could not 
imagine from what source. 

But Jackson had just returned from an 
official interview on the gymnasium incident, 
and this, he thought, might account for the 


66 


A PLEBE 

unusual expression in hi£ face ; nevertheless, 
that look of triumphant hostility haunted 
him and he was unable to' concentrate his 
mind upon his studies until Jackson left the 
room and he heard him cautiously" ascending 
the stairs to the quarters occupied* by other 
candidates. 

Twenty-five minutes later when D£? u gl as 
stepped out into the hall to proceed to th&* ex " 
animation in English grammar, he heaK^ 
Jackson remark as he came down-stairs with 
Roderick O’Connor, “ I wish you would keep 
in mind the exact time he came to the room, 
O’Connor, I have a special reason for wanting 
you to be sure about it.” 

“ Well, what reason ? ” 

“ I — I would rather not state my reason,” 
said Jackson, in a low, coaxing tone, “ not 
now, at any rate.” 

“ I have no objection to remembering things 
I can’t forget,” said O’Connor in a tone of 
slight impatience, “ but Atwell is the kind of 
chap I like, and I think the code of honor 
here would excuse me from being party to 
anything unpleasant to a friend.” 

“ Of course — of course,” stammered Jack- 


AT WEST POINT 67 

son, “ I simply had a reason for wanting the 
incident remembered.” 

Douglas dashed down-stairs in order that he 
might hear no more of the conversation, but 
enough had already come to his ears to awaken 
a deep anxiety in his mind as to why Jackson 
sought a witness to the time at which he re- 
turned to barracks. 

The matter was forced out of his mind, how- 
ever, in order to give his best efforts to the sub- 
ject before him, and when he left the examina- 
tion room five minutes before the termination 
of the time limit, his heart was full of hope 
that he would attain the great goal for which 
he was striving as he had never striven before 
in all his arduous life. 

O’Connor had preceded him by thirty 
minutes, had gone to his room, and was 
sitting with his feet upon the radiator when 
Douglas dashed up-stairs and flung open the 
door. Roderick jumped to attention with a 
startled look, and the novel he was reading 
dropped clattering to the floor. 

“ Great guns,” said he, laughing, “ you 
burst into the room with such eclat that I 
thought it must be that little angel, Swayne, 


68 


A PLEBE 


on my trail again. Oh, mother, but that 
boy has got me rattled. I went to sleep last 
night before ‘ taps/ and when he turned his 
dark lantern on me I was so startled that I 
hopped out of bed, dashed at the bull’s-eye, 
and began blowing like a blast furnace to put 
it out. The blaze in my eyes had me hyp- 
notized and I didn’t know where I was until 
I heard that cherub cooing as softly as a June 
breeze, * Well, mister, what are you trying to 
celebrate ? This is a dark lantern, not a gas 
jet, and moreover we don’t blow out the gas 
at West Point, we turn it out. Now step out 
and get into bed, sir,’ ” and handsome Rory 
shook with laughter as he completed his in- 
comparable imitation of “ cherub ” Swayne’s 
manner and voice. 

“ By the way,” he continued, “ did he get 
you for anything this morning when you 
came back from the exam.? ” 

“ No. I found things in some disorder, but 
I managed to get the room into shape before 
Swayne arrived.” 

“ Jackson’s things, I suppose.” 

“ Yes,” said Douglas, and then Rory 
O’Connor listened with an interest which 


AT WEST POINT 


69 

Douglas could not understand as he de- 
scribed the condition in which he found the 
room and what he did to make it ready for 
inspection. 

“ Careless chap, don’t you know — that fel- 
low Jackson,” said O’Connor abstractedly as 
he opened the door and peered cautiously 
about, for cadet officers might appear at any 
moment in the hall of barracks, and woe be- 
tide the “ B.J.” candidate who might be 
found visiting without authority. “ Come 
up to my room at any time you can and 
we will bone together for the exam.,” said 
Roderick. “ I have lots of books, and will 
be glad to see you.” 

“ Thank you,” said Douglas heartily, but 
his eyes expressed the deep gratitude which 
his lips could not frame for this delicate offer 
to help him in attaining the goal he so dearly 
prized. 

“ He’s as simple as a child, and as honest as 
the day is long — the real salt of the earth,” 
mused Rory, as he went up to his room, “ and 
I will remember a few things that Jackson 
did not think about if he intends to make any 
trouble.” 


7 ° 


A PLEBE 


A few minutes later an orderly was beating 
his drum vigorously in the area of barracks 
and the candidates were forming for dinner. 

The interest in the Jackson incident had 
subsided not a whit when the battalion 
danced up the steps of Grant Hall, and 
apparently the whole corps anxiously awaited 
the action of the superintendent in regard to 
the upper classmen involved. 

All was serene and calm upon the surface, 
but it had already reached the candidates that 
the yearling class was determined to “ square ” 
things with Jackson and Durkin, and that the 
coming encampment would be the scene of 
“ soirees ” such as would make all previous 
efforts at hazing seem trivial by comparison. 

Jackson himself was thoroughly frightened, 
and shrank from the ordeals which were 
covertly promised him by the yearlings of 
an adjacent table, but he still regarded his 
“ tactics ” of evasion as a clever ruse by which 
he had outwitted the upper classmen and 
thus escaped the consequences of his acts. 
With characteristic indifference, therefore, he 
ignored the veiled sarcasm of the yearlings, 
and laughed to himself as he resolved to call 


AT WEST POINT 


7 1 

for official support in resisting their future 
aggressions. 

Whatever doubt there might be about Jack- 
son’s moral character, there was certainly no 
question as to his mental fitness, for when 
the examination was resumed at 2 p. m. he 
was again among the first to turn in his paper 
and leave the room, while Douglas toiled 
away with growing anxiety till the last avail- 
able moment. Only big Durkin, little Jack 
Oakley and half dozen others were left with 
him when the time expired and, he was 
forced to turn in an unfinished paper on 
geometry. 

A storm had been brewing the entire after- 
noon and the rain was now falling in blind- 
ing sheets as he stepped out of the Academic 
Building and dashed across the area of bar- 
racks to his room. 

Roderick O’Connor was waiting for him, 
and while the wind blew the rain in fitful 
gusts against the window and the thunder 
shook the giant sides of old Storm King, 
these two earnest boys labored over the ex- 
amination in algebra for the coming day ; 
and Douglas was astonished at his young 


A PLEBE 


72 

friend’s keenness and ability, and delighted at 
his eagerness to help. 

The storm forced a suspension of full-dress 
parade in camp, and the battalion, in long 
rain-coats and sombre gray trousers, were only 
a trifle less bedraggled and dripping than the 
candidates when they dashed down to supper 
at double time and rushed into the Mess Hall. 

The thunder was still rolling and the rain 
was falling in sheets that converted the road 
in front into a running stream when Captain 
Skinner, the officer in charge for the day, 
stepped into the Mess Hall from the annex, and 
handed Cadet Adjutant Starring a bunch of 
official orders, and then walked to the other 
end of the hall, where he waited with folded 
arms for their publication. 

The young soldier rose, and his clear voice 
rang out over the roar of the thunder and the 
rattle and din of the Mess Hall. 

“ Battalion, attention ! ” 

Knives, forks, and spoons were dropped in 
an instant, the upper classmen settled back in 
their chairs, and the candidates sat erect and 
motionless while the adjutant read his official 
message to the corps of cadets. 


AT WEST POINT 


73 


First came the delinquency list, published 
in camp each day immediately after parade, 
this list setting forth the errors, mistakes, 
failures, etc., of the entire corps. There were 
reports as follows : 

Andrews. — Smiling in ranks at dinner for- 
mation. 

Burtt. — Rusty gun at guard mounting. 

Carpenter. — Carrying sugar underneath 
blouse from the Mess Hall. 

Same. — Haying candy in possession in tent. 

Same. — Ten minutes late reporting return 
from hop. 

Saville. — Blouse unbuttoned, shoes not laced, 
hat on side of head when falling in ranks at 
reveille roll-call. 

Etc., etc., etc. 

The list was a long one and every count 
carried demerits which effect the cadet’s 
standing upon graduation and his order of 
promotion in the army. The adjutant fin- 
ished his long list, then read a short order, 
and finally opened the document for which 
every member of the corps was waiting with 
breathless anxiety. The paper ran as fol- 
lows : 


A PLEBE 


74 

Headquarters United States Military Academy , 

West Point , N. Y., June 7th. 
Special orders , iVo. — . 

1. For having permitted, and to a certain 
extent participated in, the hazing of a candi- 
date in the gymnasium on the 6th instant, 
Cadet Lieutenant Horton, first class, United 
States Military Academy, is hereby reduced 
to the grade of private. He is furthermore 
confined to that portion of the encampment 
east of the color line until the 28th of August, 
and will walk one tour of extra duty each 
Wednesday and Saturday afternoon until the 
same date. 

2. For having annoyed, harassed, and 
challenged to a fight a candidate in the gym- 
nasium on the 6th instant, Cadets Hartz and 
Farrington, third class, United States Military 
Academy, are hereby confined to that portion 
of the encampment east of the color line until 
the 28th of August, and to the barracks, area 
of barracks, and gymnasium until the 1st of 
January, next, and will walk two tours of 
extra duty each Wednesda} 7 and Saturday 
afternoon during the same period. 

By order of Colonel Mills, 

J. S. Cole, 

Captain, — th Infantry, 

Adjutant. 


AT WEST POINT 


75 


“ Rest,” commanded the adjutant as he 
folded the official document and resumed his 
seat. No one stirred or spoke, but a smile 
broke over the face of candidate Leland C. 
Jackson, and an instant later his laugh was 
heard by the upper classmen of all the ad- 
jacent tables. 


CHAPTER IV 


NEW CADETS 

Never in the history of the old academy 
had the members of the United States corps 
of cadets been so thoroughly angered. Every 
one recognized the justice of the punishments 
inflicted on Horton, Hartz and Farrington for 
their part in the hazing of Jackson, and they 
themselves were ready to accept the penalty 
of indiscretion without a sign of resentment ; 
for hazing is contrary to regulations, and he 
who hazes does so at his peril. If caught, 
discipline demands and cadets suffer unflinch- 
ingly the most severe punish men ts. But every 
upper classman believed that Jackson had 
brought about the punishments of Horton, 
Hartz and Farrington by partial falsification 
and deceit, and it was the unwritten code of 
the corps that such conduct made him un- 
worthy a place in their ranks, and justified 
any honorable means of expelling him there- 
from. 


76 


AT WEST POINT 


77 


Grossly though he had offended. Jackson 
might still have been excused on account of a 
candidate’s ignorance of cadet customs, had it 
not been for that insolent laugh with which 
he greeted the order announcing the punish- 
ments of the upper classmen concerned. If 
he became a cadet, he might partially recover 
his position by a fight to a finish with a repre- 
sentative of one of the upper classes, for his 
refusal to fight would be regarded as cowardly, 
and would result in his being “ cut,” or socially 
ostracized by the entire corps, and it is a 
strong man indeed who can continue to wear 
the gray with that burden upon his shoulders. 

“ But Jackson may never become a cadet, 
and you can’t hold a candidate responsible 
for our code,” urged the cooler heads, and so 
in spite of the bitter feelings that had been 
aroused, the 12th of June had arrived with 
the situation unchanged, and the entire corps 
of cadets eagerly awaited the announcement 
of the list of successful candidates. 

It was 10 a. m. on that eventful date when 
Cadet Lieutenant Littlefield and his assistants 
rolled the call through the hall of barracks 
for the last time, “ Candidates turn out 


A PLEBE 


7 8 

promptly,” and Douglas Atwell bounded 
down-stairs with leaping heart to hear his 
fate. 

Many faces were pale and care-worn in that 
long line when Acting First Sergeant S wayne 
faced about and reported the result of his roll- 
call, “ All present, sir.” Captain Cole, the ad- 
jutant of the United States Military Academy, 
then walked out in the front of the centre of 
the line, unfolded his long roll, and addressed 
the line with the calm, official indifference of 
one accustomed to undisputed control over 
the destinies of men : 

“ The following named candidates, having 
failed to pass the required mental examina- 
tion, will fall out as their names are called, 
and will then return direct to their rooms. 
All articles drawn by them from the cadet 
store will be turned in at once; they will 
settle their accounts with the treasurer, and 
will then proceed to their homes without de- 
lay, there to await the action of the secretary 
of war in their cases.” 

Douglas scarcely heard the adjutant’s voice, 
but he was dimly conscious of the fact that 
names were being called, and suddenly the 


AT WEST POINT 


79 


man on his right started, answered “ here,” 
and then stepped dizzily out of ranks, and 
moved off toward the flank ; and Douglas 
realized that the man’s name was Baker. 
The adjutant had passed through the A’s. 
His name had not been called — he was safe ; 
he had won the honor of which he had 
dreamed for months. 

Four years of toil were in front of him, but 
what cared he for toil ? The bitterest task 
would be sweet to him if it yielded at last to 
his persistency and gave him the comradeship 
of officers who had led him through the fury 
of the campaign in the Philippines. 

Douglas was roused from his momentary 
ecstasy as the giant Durkin roared out an an- 
swer to his name, stepped out of ranks and 
slouched away toward the flank, while his 
rear rank file, a mere stripling of seventeen 
summers, stepped into his vacant place to 
wear the honors he had failed to win. 

When Captain Cole finished his list, only 
one hundred and ten were left in ranks, sixty- 
five had been found deficient, and among 
these was little Jack Oakley. 

“ I never was so glad in my life,” said Jack 


8o 


A PLEBE 


as he staggered down-stairs with his mattress 
on his back and the successful candidates 
came surging joyously back into barracks. 

“ I’ll stick my hat on the back of my head, 
laugh and sing when I please, and I won’t 
pop into bed to-night like a jack-rabbit in 
front of a bull’s-eye lantern. No, you bet I 
won’t. I’m going to my 4 soft and downy ’ 
at the West Point Plotel, and I’m going to 
sleep through reveille like a gentleman to- 
morrow morning, and then I’m coming out 
about eight o’clock to see the young generals 
drill, for you are as funny as a basket of 
monkeys. Give me that bucket, boys, I’m 
abdicating, but I haven’t had so much fun 
since I went to Barnum’s circus. 

“ Look at old Durkin, look ! look ! ” giggled 
little Jack as he staggered up against the hall 
window with his burden, and watched the big 
Missourian rushing across the area of bar- 
racks with all his furniture in his arms 4 4 to 
settle his accounts with the treasurer and then 
to proceed to his home without delay, there to 
await the action of the secretary of war in his 
case.” 

Not all rejected candidates were like little 


AT WEST POINT 


Jack Oakley, however, for when Douglas 
reached his room young Harrington, tall, re- 
fined, and of excellent physique, a man whom 
Douglas had imagined one of the mental lead- 
ers of the class, was lying upon his bare iron 
bunk, and weeping as if his heart would break. 
He had failed, whereas in an adjacent room 
Ezekiel Shanks, an ambling, raw-boned back- 
woodsman from the northwest, was dancing a 
kan-kan in sheer delight at his unexpected 
success. 

“ Hearty congratulations, old man,” said 
Roderick O’Connor, as he grasped Douglas by 
the hand. “ I can’t tell you how glad I am 
that we are going to be classmates. We can’t 
celebrate much, though, for poor Harrington 
would hear us over there in his room, and it 
would only increase the bitterness for him. 
Moreover, the period for serious thought has 
come in earnest. If I’m any judge, this dis- 
tinguished class is going to have a stormy 
career. The army boys say that if we stand 
by Jackson we will have to fight the whole 
corps, and I think they are right. For my 
part, I heartily dislike Jackson, but I suppose 
we can’t desert a classmate. At any rate we 


82 


A PLEBE 


will be forced to decide as soon as we get into 
camp. They say we will have to live two or 
three in a single tent. If that is the case will 
you be willing to cast your lot with me ? ” 

“ Nothing would please me more,” said 
Douglas warmly, “ and I will leave it to you 
to pick the third man if that becomes neces- 
sary.^ 

With this understanding the two young 
men parted to write the good news home, and 
a half hour later they fell in with the ranks 
and marched away to the rooms of the Aca- 
demic Building, where, during the past week, 
they had struggled over the examination. 

The adjutant and Mr. Ward awaited their 
arrival, while large printed blanks lay upon 
the top of the desks. 

“ You have been called here to sign the en- 
gagement of service, and to take the oath of 
allegiance,” said the adjutant. “ Read the 
printed blanks before you with great care and 
if there is any one who does not wish to sign 
the engagement of service or take the oath, let 
him make known that fact at once. You will 
be allowed fifteen minutes to decide.” 

But when the time had expired none were 


AT WEST POINT 83 

ready to decline the honors for which so many 
young men have striven in vain. 

“ Now, young gentlemen,” said Mr. Ward, 
the venerable notary public, who has admin- 
istered the oath of allegiance to every class of 
cadets since 1865, “ please give me your atten- 
tion as I read the following : 

“ I, of the State (or Territory) 

of , aged years months, 

do hereby engage (with the consent of my 
parent or guardian) that, from the date of my 
admission as a Cadet of the United States 
Military Academy, I will serve in the Army 
of the United States for eight years, unless 
sooner discharged by competent authority. 

“ In the presence of 

u ” 

“ If there is no objection to the conditions 
imposed, please sign in the space left vacant, 
using your full name. 

“ Now please rise,” he continued, when all 
had completed their signatures, “ raise your 
right hands, and follow me carefully.” 

Then the notary public read the following 
oath : 


8 4 


A PLEBE 


“ I, , do solemnly swear that 

I will support the Constitution of the United 
States, and bear true allegiance to the National 
Government ; that I will maintain and defend 
the sovereignty of the United States, para- 
mount to any and all allegiance, sovereignty, 
or fealty I may owe to any State or country 
whatsoever ; and that I will at all times obey 
the legal orders of my superior officers, and 
the rules and articles governing the Armies 
of the United States. 

u 

“ Sworn and subscribed, at , this 

day of nineteen hundred and 

before me.” 

And by his official signature at the bottom 
of this oath, Ex-Sergeant Douglas Atwell be- 
came a new cadet of the class of 190-, United 
States Military Academy, and thus mounted 
the first round of the ladder which leads by 
unbroken succession to the head of the army. 

“ New cadets, rise ! ” commanded Cadet 
Lieutenant Littlefield. “ Fall in outside,” and 
with a thrill of delight at the realization of his 
dreams, Douglas sprang to his feet and took 
his place as right guide of the plebe class. 

“ You will be marched to the barber shop,” 


AT WEST POINT 


85 

said Littlefield, “ and after having your hair 
trimmed according to regulations, you will go 
directly to the cadet store to receive a portion 
of the uniform, and hereafter the use of civil- 
ian clothing is prohibited. Immediately after 
receiving your uniform you will pack your 
civilian clothing in your trunks or traveling- 
bags and hold yourself in readiness to turn 
them into the storeroom as soon as directed.” 

Under the command of Corporal Swayne 
the class then marched into the basement of 
cadet barracks, and entered the barber’s ca- 
pacious room. 

“ Our gallant right guide first,” said big 
Karl Krumms as he slapped Douglas on the 
back, and attempted to escort him to the 
chair. 

“ I’m profoundly impressed with the respect 
due to old age,” replied Douglas, “ and I sur- 
render the place of honor to the ‘ patriarch of 
Baton Rouge.’ ” 

“ Ah reco’nize the privileges of a parent,” 
drawled Mr. Bruyard, as he strode to the chair 
with great dignity, “ and ah' accept the cour- 
tesy of mah children with becoming modesty.” 

Years seemed to fall away from Jacques’ 


86 


A PLEBE 


shoulders as the long black locks, fine beard 
and moustache were shorn from his graceful 
head, and when he rose from his chair his 
dark-eyed “ son ” seemed but little younger 
than he. 

The two barbers worked away with great 
rapidity, and many youthful moustaches dis- 
appeared before their nimble fingers not to 
return until furlough days two years later, for 
every cadet while at the academy must wear 
his hair cut fairly short and his face clean 
shaven. 

At eleven o’clock, when Douglas stepped from 
the chair and entered the cadet store, several 
of his classmates were already arrayed in gray 
flannel blouse and trousers and were eagerly 
scanning themselves before a long mirror be- 
fore passing into the inspecting-room, where 
Captain Barton passed final judgment upon 
the fit. 

Douglas received his bundle — gray flannel 
blouse, a pair of gray flannel trousers, cam- 
paign hat, one forage cap, two gray flannel 
shirts, one pair of leggings, and a clothes-bag 
containing two sheets, three pillow-cases, 
twelve white belts, twelve white gloves, four 


AT WEST POINT 


87 

towels, one tumbler, one shoe-brush, one 
clothes-bag, and writing, shaving, and clean- 
ing materials. 

With feverish haste he drew on the fine 
suit of cadet gray and elbowed his way to the 
mirror. Perhaps the excellent fit of the gar- 
ment should excuse our young friend, but 
surely he held his place like one entranced 
before the glass until the rude pressure of 
some one at his elbow forced him to turn his 
face, and there stood Roderick O’Connor shak- 
ing with inward mirth. 

“ Give way, old bamboo,” said he jovially, 
“ and let me have a chance ; you’ve been 
gazing like one hypnotized for five minutes 
by the clock, but, by Jove, you do look 
spoony.” 

And when these two young men had finally 
subjected their uniforms to the inspecting 
officer and walked away together toward 
barracks, no other pair in the class presented 
a better appearance. No inequalities were now 
possible in the quality or cost price of goods, 
and the superiority in appearance of the new 
cadet could depend only upon physique and 
bearing, and Douglas could not escape the 


88 


A PLEBE 


consciousness that he had thereby risen among 
his classmates. It was therefore with a feel- 
ing of new pride that he took his position as 
right guide of the class as it formed ranks in 
full gray for dinner formation. Though these 
ready-made suits were of inferior material, 
and though doubtful fits, unmilitary bearing, 
and the absence of the smart white ducks pro- 
claimed the unmistakable plebe, yet the line 
had acquired its first title to a military body, 
and the inequalities between the plebes and 
upper classmen were less painfully apparent 
when the big battalion took seats in the Mess 
Hall for dinner. 

The eyes of every upper classman were 
turned toward Jackson’s chair, and when 
he appeared a yearling was heard to remark, 
“ There he is ; by Jove, boys, he has passed 
the exam. ; but he’s an insolent cad, and if I 
have anything to do with it he will be kicked 
out of the corps inside of six months.” 

The meal passed, however, without any 
direct insult or threat to Jackson, and the 
plebes marched off once more to the area of 
barracks. 

“ You will turn out for drill in campaign 


AT WEST POINT 89 

hats, gray shirts, gray trousers and leggings 
at 3 p. m. to-day,” said Littlefield, as the class 
halted in line with something like cadet pre- 
cision. 

“ The drummer will sound all calls here- 
after in the area of barracks, first call for drill 
to-day being sounded at 2.55 p. m., and as- 
sembly five minutes later.” 

Then the ranks broke and Douglas went to 
his room to spend the time before drill in con- 
versation with his good friend, Rory, and to 
enjoy the glory of the first afternoon in the 
cadet gray which he had so valiantly won. 
As the first call for drill rolled through the 
long barracks, bringing many tremors to the 
inexperienced plebes, Douglas bounded joy- 
ously down the stairs to meet a duty with 
which he was entirely familiar, and as luck 
would have it Jackson fell in with the same 
squad, and Roderick O’Connor was forced to 
take his place as Jackson’s rear rank file. 

As Acting First Sergeant Swayne finished 
his roll, reported, and marched briskly to his 
place in the rear of the line, the cadenced 
tread of a marching detachment came to the 
ears of the expectant line. With shoulders 


9 o 


A PLEBE 


forced back, eyes straight to the front, and ears 
strained, the plebes anxiously awaited their 
first experience at the hands of the drill- 
masters from camp. Decisive as a clock 
stroke, sharp as the ring of a bell, came the 
sound of the measured tread as the detach- 
ment came through the sally-port in the rear 
of the line, and Douglas, like many a plebe, 
felt the chills creep over him, just as one feels 
with his back turned toward a giant locomo- 
tive which is bearing down upon him. 

“ Detachment, halt ! ” 

With the last word the sound of the falling 
feet stopped absolutely together, and the de- 
tachment stood in perfect silence as a dapper 
looking cadet corporal marched briskly up to 
Littlefield, and snapping up a rifle ramrod to 
a sword salute, reported, “ Sir, the detachment 
is present.” 

What a magnificent display of discipline, 
precision, and dignity ; yet only one year ago 
these same incomparable drill-masters stood 
quaking in the awkward plebe ranks. 

Already Swayne was dividing the class into 
squads, and within a minute after the arrival 
of the detachment, a sharp-tongued corporal 


AT WEST POINT 


9i 


was marching the squad to which Douglas be- 
longed through the sally-port and out upon 
the plain in front of barracks. The drill- 
masters were dressed in blouses, immaculate 
duck trousers and belts, while each carried in 
his white gloved hand a light rifle ramrod to 
perform the functions of a sword. 

The squads were rapidly deployed in a thin 
line with two paces interval, and then each 
drill-master described the exercises of the 
“ setting up ” drill, devised to loosen up un- 
trained muscles and cultivate an erect and 
military bearing. Every detail of the work, 
however, was familiar to Douglas who, as a 
sergeant of the Regular Army, had drilled 
recruits in all these exercises in the Philip- 
pines, and he had no difficulty in meeting all 
the exactions of the little martinet who so 
severely rebuked every error. O’Connor, 
however, could do nothing properly, and the 
humorous expression of his face indicated 
that he did not at all appreciate the enormity 
of the military sins for which the corporal 
continually reprimanded him. Although 
O’Connor occupied much attention, Jackson 
was the special object of the corporal’s re- 


92 


A PLEBE 


proofs, and his temper was rising to the break- 
ing point as the drill drew to a close. 

The squad had come to the “ rest,” and 
being thus permitted to turn his eyes from 
the straight front, Douglas observed that the 
corporal had turned deathly pale and was 
leaning up against the trunk of an adjacent 
tree. 

“ Mr. Atwell,” said he feebly, “ fall out and 
drill the squad until a cadet officer comes to 
relieve you. Then turn the squad over to 
him and say that I have gone to barracks on 
account of illness.” 

Douglas instantly stepped out of ranks, and 
with all the confidence and dignity acquired 
by his experience as a sergeant in the Regular 
Army, he prepared to command the squad, 
while the corporal staggered across the road 
toward barracks. No other squad was near, 
and there was nothing for Douglas to do but 
to obey the instructions of his superior officer 
without hesitation. 

“ Squad, attention ! ” he commanded in a 
tone of such unmistakable authority that 
every one jumped to obey — every one except 
Jackson, who stood with arms folded and a 




W • ' A* 








“ r'OME TO A TTENTION 
INSTANTLY, SIR.'" 









AT WEST POINT 


93 


cynical smile upon his lips, thus endeavoring 
to ridicule the authority delegated to his 
classmate. 

“Come to attention, Jackson,” said Douglas 
in a tone which rivaled in sharpness that of 
the drill-master whom he had succeeded, but 
as Jackson did not move, he sprang forward, 
his eyes blazing, his lips drawn tight, and said 
with intense earnestness, “ Come to attention 
instantly, sir, or I will report you for diso- 
bedience of orders.” 

A startled look came over Jackson’s face 
and his hands dropped nervously to his sides ; 
and had the commandant of cadets himself 
given the orders, no more obedient or earnest 
response could have been secured than was 
yielded to the commands of the young soldier 
cadet as he drilled his squad with the dex- 
terity of a veteran. 

A moment later the drummer rattled off 
the “ recall ” at the north sally-port, and as 
Douglas glanced about for some cadet officer 
to whom he should report his squad, he was 
startled to see Littlefield watching him from 
the vicinity of the Thayer monument, not 
thirty feet distant. 


94 


A PLEBE 


That evening the first delinquency list of 
the new cadets, read by Littlefield himself at 
the formation for supper, contained the fol- 
lowing reports : — 

Jackson. — Failing to come to attention at 
command at 3 p. m. drill. 

Same. — Carelessness in the execution of 
exercises at 3 p. m. drill. 

Same. — Displaying insolent and insubordi- 
nate bearing in ranks at drill about 3.55 p. M. 


CHAPTER V 


A FIGHT 

Within five minutes after recall on the 
afternoon of the 13th of June, every man in 
the plebe class knew that young Atwell had 
been called out of ranks to command his 
squad at their very first drill, and many were 
proud indeed of the honor so early won by 
one of their number. Every one knew, also, 
of the manner in which he had reprimanded 
Jackson for failure to promptly obey his 
orders in ranks, and all were deeply excited 
and anxious as to the possible outcome. But 
when the delinquency list, published that 
night at formation for supper, charged Jack- 
son with “ insolent and insubordinate bearing 
in ranks at drill about 3.55 p. m.,” the plebes 
held their breath in astonishment. 

Could it be possible that one of their num- 
ber would take such drastic measures of disci- 
pline with a classmate, and for an offense 
95 


96 A PLEBE 

which seemed to a majority of them as quite 
trifling ? 

Douglas himself flushed crimson as he 
stood in ranks as right guide at supper forma- 
tion and heard Littlefield read off the report 
in his clear musical tones, but he could see no 
way of avoiding the disagreeable scene with 
Jackson which occurred at drill except by a 
cowardly neglect of his manifest duty, and he 
therefore determined to abide by results, let 
* them be what they might. 

So when Littlefield closed his delinquency 
book with a bang and rolled out his clear 
command, “Fours right, march!” Douglas 
stepped out briskly and buoyantly in front of 
the column, and, his head clear as to the 
proper course, his mind was fixed on follow- 
ing it. 

The strict official requirements of the ranks 
and the stern exactions of the upper classmen 
/ ^^while at table prevented all but necessary con- 
versation among the plebes, and Douglas was 
thus enabled to avoid all allusion to the start- 
ling report against Jackson. The latter had 
avoided him, had remained in the rooms of 
some classmates with whom he had struck up 


AT WEST POINT 


97 


a friendship, and when the class swung into 
line in the area of barracks after supper, 
Douglas had not seen his old-time enemy 
since they glared into each other’s faces at 
drill that afternoon. 

“ Call to quarters will always be sounded at 
twenty minutes after your return from supper 
while you remain in barracks/’ said Little- 
field as he stood in front of the line of new 
cadets that evening. “ After you are dis- 
missed you will then be at liberty to walk 
about outside the area of barracks until that 
time.” 

Then at the command, “ Dismissed,” by 
Acting First Sergeant Swayne, the line broke 
ranks and scattered in all directions. 

“ Hello, old Rain-in-the-Face,” chuckled 
Rory O’Connor as he caught Douglas by the 
arm, “ let us take a walk.” 

“ All right,” said Douglas as he turned ab- 
ruptly through the sally-port and walked out 
in front of barracks. “ Suppose we take a 
turn up the officers’ line to the north end of 
the plain — Trophy Point, I believe they call it.” 

“Good,” said O’Connor, “any place you 
suggest except camp. I would not like to 


A PLEBE 


98 

embarrass the hostess by a call at an unseemly 
hour ; besides, the thing I'm frantic to know 
about is that report — ‘ skin ' the upper class- 
men call 'em — that you handed out to Jack- 
son for ‘ insolence, insubordination ’ and other 
forms of B.J.ety." 

“ I didn't skin him," said Douglas. 

41 You didn’t?" 

“ No ; I threatened to report him if he 
didn't come to attention, but he finally obeyed, 
and it would have ended there, but Mr. Lit- 
tlefield overheard the whole conversation, and 
I suppose he put in the report against Jack- 
son." 

“ Where was he? " 

“ Near the Thayer monument in rear of the 
squad. I was so startled that my knees bat- 
tered together when I saw him." 

“ You weren't half as badly startled as I 
was when you jumped at Jackson. I thought 
you had turned Igarrote and had gone out 
head hunting — never braced so hard in my 
life, for fear that I might come next after you 
got finished with Jack. If you had ordered 
me to climb a tree I would have gone up like 
a cat. My boy, you have a temper." 


AT WEST POINT 


99 

“ Oh, I wasn’t angry, Rory, I was only in 
dead earnest.” 

“ If that’s what you call being ‘ only in dead 
earnest ’ I want to get into a bomb-proof when 
you get real mad.” 

“ It’s a question of duty, not temper, O’Con- 
nor,” urged Douglas. “ From the manner of 
these cadet officers, one would say that they 
are all in a rage, but they are only in desper- 
ate earnest.” 

“ Yes, one would say that they were suffer- 
ing delirium of some sort,” laughed Rory. 
“ Sounded exactly like an insane asylum this 
afternoon when all the drill-masters mounted 
to the fine frenzy of your ‘desperate earnest.’” 

“ If one is placed in command,” continued 
Douglas, “ he must exact obedience at any 
cost. Jackson’s been in the army and he 
ought to know that fact as well as I, but we 
are natural born enemies ” 

“ Enemies ! Why ? ” said Roderick quickly. 

“ Not exactly enemies,” replied Douglas 
cautiously, remembering his resolution to 
maintain silence concerning Jackson’s his- 
tory. “ I bear him no ill will ; but he is 
not in love with me.” 


I oo 


A PLEBE 


“ An Egyptian mummy could have said as 
much / 7 laughed Rory. “ Look out, Douglas, 
some day you might actually say something 
indiscreet ; but here is a point on which I am 
still clouded. What would you have done 
if Jackson had refused flat-footed to obey? 
Would you have hit him? I want to be pre- 
pared, don’t you know, because they might 
call me out to drill a squad of tacs (tactical 
officers), and some of them might get gay, just 
to see if I knew my job.” 

“ No,” laughed Douglas, “ I would not have 
hit him. A superior never strikes an inferior. 
If these cadet officers have any fights with our 
class it will be after office hours and in their 
capacity as cadets merely, not as officers.” 

“ The fog is clearing, and I begin to get at 
conclusions. You wouldn’t hit Jackson in 
ranks for a gold medal, but you would lick 
him till he couldn’t see straight a half hour 
later in a little private affair.” 

“ I hope that won’t be necessary,” said 
Douglas. 

“ Well, if you don’t lick him he will lick 
you, for that boy is looking for trouble. He’s 
been boning ‘ boot-lick ’ (currying favor) with 


AT WEST POINT 


IOI 


a number of chaps of our class — Storms, Har- 
din, and Smoke and others of their ilk, all 
big, aggressive fellows who seem to be natural 
born fomentors of discord. Well, I might say 
that your name has been mentioned among 
them in a rather unfriendly way, and Storms, 
moreover, happened to be in the squad this 
afternoon, when you reprimanded Jackson. 
Should any trouble arise on account of your 
conduct you can depend upon me for help.’' 

“Thank you, Roderick,” said Douglas feel- 
ingly as he grasped his young friend by the 
hand and gazed earnestly into his frank, hand- 
some face, “ and I assure you that I am like- 
wise at your service when you need a friend.” 
And the allegiance they mutually pledged 
each other in that warm hand clasp was des- 
tined to be tried in many a serious encounter 
during the stormy career of the class of 
190 -. 

The young men had reached Trophy Point, 
and now stood among the captured cannon, 
whose battered sides were mute testimonials 
of young America’s valiant military spirit. 
To the right, Battle Monument rose majes- 
tically above the tree-tops to commemorate 


102 


A PLEBE 


the memory of our heroic dead of '61-'65, 
while just within the hedge beyond, the vener- 
able West Point Hotel was visible on the brow 
of the cliff which overhangs the Hudson. A 
piano was playing softly within and a girl's 
voice floated out across the river, where a 
single rowboat left its V-shaped ripple on the 
surface of the clear water as it swung down 
the stream and disappeared around Gee's Point, 
that rock-ribbed promontory which breaks the 
course of the river almost at right angles. To 
the north the old-fashioned houses of New- 
burgh, the headquarters of the Revolutionary 
Army, lay dimly outlined beyond Cro's Nest 
and old Storm King, the northern portals of 
the highlands. Every feature of the land- 
scape breathed its story of chivalric deeds, 
and appealed to the noblest passions of the 
young heart. 

For several minutes the two young cadets 
drank in the entrancing beauty of the scene, 
and then turned and walked silently across 
the plain toward barracks. 

“ I will come down to see you later," said 
Roderick as he left his companion on the 
landing at the head of the second flight of 


AT WEST POINT 


103 

stairs, and bounded up toward his room on 
the third floor. 

It was already growing dark and the gas 
was burning when Douglas entered his room. 
Jackson was there in earnest conversation with 
Storms and Hardin, and all paused awkwardly 
as Douglas opened the door. Hardin, who 
was standing with arms folded and back 
against the mantel, was the first to speak. 

“ My friend, Jackson, tells me,” said he, 
“ that you took advantage of the minute you 
were in charge of the squad this afternoon to 
report him for * insolent and insubordinate 
bearing in ranks.’ What have you got to 
say about it ? ” 

“Nothing at all,” said Douglas quietly. 
“ My relations to Jackson at drill to-day 
are strictly official and admit of no discus- 
sion by you or any one else not in authority 
over me.” 

“Uh,”said Storms contemptuously, “that 
is a coward’s way of avoiding responsibility. 
Perhaps you are ignorant of the custom among 
cadets and other gentlemen of giving to an 
aggrieved person the right to demand a pri- 
vate satisfaction.” 


104 


A PLEBE 


“ I am ready to hear any demand the ag- 
grieved party may wish to present,” said 
Douglas without the slightest show of anger 
or resentment. 

“ Well, then,” said Storms dramatically, “ I 
am* here as Mr. Jackson’s second to say that 
he demands an immediate apology or an im- 
mediate fight with him according to cadet 
custom.” 

Jackson started and turned very pale. He 
had planned a fight, but he had hoped to be a 
spectator, not a principal. 

“ I will make no apology, and I’m ready to 
fight,” said Douglas as he tossed his blouse 
upon the bed and laid aside his collar and 
cuffs. 

As Jackson came nervously to the centre 
of the room the door gently opened and Rod- 
erick O’Connor stepped inside. 

“ Go it, old bamboo,” said he in a low tone, 
“ I’m behind you.” 

Quick as lightning Jackson sprang in and 
Douglas felt a stinging blow in the face. It 
was the necessary stimulus to arouse his anger 
and indignation, and with the fierceness and 
agility of a young tiger he leaped at his an tag- 


AT WEST POINT 


105 


onist. The lights danced in the room and the 
other occupants sprang about to avoid his on- 
slaught, as with fearful force and rapidity he 
rained the blows on Jackson's body and face. 
The fight had not lasted a minute when, by a 
crushing blow, Douglas drove his antagonist 
headlong over the wash-stand and sent him 
stunned and bleeding to the floor among the 
fragments of the wash basin. 

As Douglas stepped back panting and waited 
for his antagonist to rise the door swung open 
and Swayne and Cadet Lieutenant Speedwell, 
the captain of the football team, stood on the 
threshold. 

“What is the matter here?" demanded 
Swayne imperiously. 

All jumped to attention except Jackson, 
who still lay bruised and helpless upon the floor. 

“ I’ve been fighting with Mr. Jackson, sir," 
said Douglas promptly, and for the first time 
he was aware that blood was trickling from 
his lips. 

“ Evidently," said Swayne. “ What part 
did you take in this affair, Mr. O’Connor? " 

“ I was Mr. Atwell’s second, sir." 

“ And you, Mr. Storms? " 


io6 


A PLEBE 


“ A spectator, sir.” 

“ And not therefore a second ? ” 

“ I’m a friend of Mr. Jackson’s, sir.” 

“ Answer my question, Mr. Storms. Were 
you in any way connected with the fight in 
this room ? ” 

“ Must I answer that question, sir ? ” 

“ Yes, sir, and officially. I propose report- 
ing you for participation in this fight. Deny 
it if you like in an official explanation. How 
about you, Mr. Hardin ? ” 

“ I was a second for Mr. Jackson, sir.” 

“ That is better,” said Swayne as he cast 
a withering glance at Storms. “ Now attend 
to your man, and report to me if he needs to 
be taken to the hospital.” Then turning to 
Douglas, he continued, “ Mr. Atwell, remove 
the marks from your face and report to Mr. 
Littlefield for an investigation.” 

“ Very well, sir,” said Douglas quietly. 
Swayne turned to leave the room, but his 
companion hesitated. “ Your name has been 
reported to me as that of a possible football 
player, Mr. Atwell,” said he, “ but I will talk 
to you about that later ; I am captain of the 
team,” 


AT WEST POINT 107 

“ Looks as if we’d have to handcuff that 
gallant player of yours before we let him 
loose on the football team/’ laughed Speed- 
well as he walked down-stairs. 

“ He’s a trump, Speedwell,” said Swayne. 
“ The man he whipped is Jackson.” 

“ What — Jackson, the fellow who made that 
quibbling statement about the gymnasium 
affair, and then laughed when Horton lost his 
chevrons ? ” 

“ The same ; and I would rather whip him 
than to win the next game against Annapolis 
on Franklin Field.” 

“ So says half the battalion over in camp, 
but if you don’t shackle that young tiger 
there will be nothing left of Jackson before 
the yearlings get a chance.” 

While this conversation was in progress 
Douglas was in Rory O’Connor’s room bath- 
ing his lacerated lips and listening to that 
young gentleman’s enthusiastic comments 
upon the fight, while Storms and Hardin 
were endeavoring to comfort Jackson and con- 
gratulating themselves that their troubles 
were merely those of seconds, not principals 


io8 


A PLEBE 


against that “ young grizzly/’ for Jackson was 
a sorry boy indeed. 

When Douglas completed his toilet, the 
slight swelling of his lips was the only evi- 
dence he bore of the encounter, and as he de- 
scended the stairs to Littlefield’s room he was 
once more in complete possession of all his 
dignity and composure. 

“ Come in,” said Littlefield as he heard the 
knock on his door and raised his eyes from 
the official papers which lay upon his plain 
wooden table. The other cadet officers were 
seated on the porch of barracks, and the 
sound of their merry conversation came 
through the window of Littlefield’s room to 
the lone worker at the desk. 

“ I understand that you were engaged in a 
fight in your room this evening, Mr. Atwell,” 
said he in a quiet tone. “ What explanation 
have you to offer? ” 

“ No satisfactory explanation, sir.” 

“ Was the fight prearranged ? ” 

“ Not so far as I was concerned, sir.” 

“ With whom did you fight? ” 

“ Mr. Jackson, my roommate, sir.” 

“ What caused the fight ? ” 


AT WEST POINT 


109 

“ My language to Mr. Jackson at drill this 
afternoon, and his belief that I reported him 
for ‘insolent and insubordinate conduct/ 
sir.” 

“ You did perfectly right at drill, Mr. At- 
well. I reported Mr. Jackson myself. Tell 
me the details concerning the fight.” 

Douglas had nearly finished his narrative 
when he heard a sharp rap upon the door and 
Littlefield rose to attention as Captain Barton, 
the officer in charge of new cadets, stepped 
into the room. He was dressed in blue blouse 
and white trousers and presented a most at- 
tractive appearance as he stood beside the 
young cadet officer and subjected Douglas to 
his sharp, keen scrutiny. 

“ Proceed with your business, Mr. Little- 
field,” said he, and as Douglas finished his 
story, he asked, “ Do I understand that you 
have been fighting ? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ With an upper classman who was attempt- 
ing to haze you? ” asked the officer sharply. 

“ No, sir. With a member of my own class ; 
my roommate, sir.” 

“ What is your name ? ” 


I IO 


A PLEBE 


“ Mr. Atwell, sir.” 

“ Oh,” said Captain Barton raising his eye- 
brows, “ you served as sergeant of company 
M, — th Infantry during the campaign in the 
Philippines?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ I am the captain of your old company, 
Mr. Atwell,” said Captain Barton warmly, 
“ and I congratulate you on your excellent 
service in the ranks and trust that you will 
acquit yourself as well at the academy. Lieu- 
tenant Milton, your company commander, has 
written me highly commending your service. 
I regret, however, that my first duty is to 
punish you for engaging in a fight. Who 
was the other party to the encounter? ” 

“ Mr. Jackson, sir.” 

Captain Barton’s eyes opened slightly and 
he paused with a peculiar expression upon his 
face. 

“ Lieutenant Milton writes me that Mr. 
Jackson was also a member of my company 
and served in your squad,” said he medita- 
tively. “ That is all, Mr. Atwell.” 

Douglas saluted and left the room, and 
Captain Barton walked thoughtfully back to 


AT WEST POINT 


1 1 1 


his office, having forgotten the object of his 
visit to the room of his senior cadet officer. 

Douglas went slowly up-stairs toward his 
room, hoping that he might find Jackson ab- 
sent in the hands of friends. He had come up 
very softly, and as he reached the head of the 
stairs he noticed that no light was burning in 
his room and judged that Jackson must be 
either absent or in bed. It was 9 p. m., and 
all was quiet in the subdivision. The window 
was open in the hall and Douglas leaned his 
arms wearily on the top sash and gazed out 
across the moonlit plain to the starry skies 
beyond where pale worlds whirled without 
cessation through infinite space. In the pres- 
ence of this immensity how insignificant his 
little affairs seemed, yet how violently he had 
fought to sustain his attitude. 

As Douglas stood there musing, a light 
flared up in his room, burned unsteadily for 
a moment, and then flickered out. Not a 
sound followed and a feeling that something 
very unusual was taking place within took 
possession of our young friend. He could not 
tolerate the idea that his presence might be 
unknown to the man in the room, so he 


I I 2 


A PLEBE 


walked heavily across the hall and as he did 
so he thought he heard the rapid motion of 
bare feet and the creak of the wire springs in 
an iron bunk. Then he flung open the door, 
walked inside and lighted the gas. 

Jackson was in bed, but the sound of his 
rapid breathing indicated that he was not 
asleep. 

Douglas went into his alcove and prepared 
to undress. That evening the class had been 
ordered to pack their civilian clothing and be 
ready to turn in trunks and grip-sacks at 
eight o’clock the next morning. Douglas had 
promptly packed his single traveling-bag and 
had left it in the corner of his alcove. But 
now as he sat upon the edge of his bed he no- 
ticed that one of the straps of his traveling- 
bag was unbuckled and a partially burned 
match lay beside it. 


CHAPTER VI 

BEFORE THE “ COURT OF HONOR 99 

The camp of the United States corps of 
cadets was a scene of unusual activity and ex- 
citement. Nearly the whole yearling class 
was lined up to the east of the color line, 
while here and there a group of first classmen 
also lingered, for the plebes were marching to 
camp, and matters of the greatest importance 
were to be settled as soon as possible after their 
arrival. 

Yes, the plebes were marching to camp, and 
to the majority of them it was like the recruit’s 
first experience on the battle line. They had 
already been armed and equipped, and now 
with rifles at the right shoulder they were 
swinging along in excellent order under the 
command of Cadet Lieutenant Littlefield, with 
Douglas Atwell as leading guide. After two 
weeks of constant and strenuous drill in bar- 
racks, they had acquired a bearing and preci- 
sion which would have won them recognition 
in most military organizations, though they 


A PLEBE 


114 

were still far below the standard of the 
United States corps of cadets. 

“ Turn out the guard, an armed party,” cried 
the sentinel on No. 1, and as Littlefield’s 
sword flashed promptly up in recognition of 
the courtesy, the sentinel added, “ Never mind 
the guard.” 

The members of the guard dropped their 
rifles back into the gun-racks, and the specta- 
tors on the visitors’ seats rose to see the 
“ armed party ” which was bearing down upon 
the camp. 

With eyes straight to the front and heads 
erect, the plebes were marching directly toward 
post No. 6 on the south side of camp, and 
their young hearts were beating high at the 
sight of the upper classmen and spectators 
who crowded out to see them, when they heard 
Littlefield’s ringing command, “ Port arms.” 

Down came the rifles “ spat-spat,” in perfect 
cadence to the march, and a murmur of ap- 
proval ran through the audience. From the 
corner of his eye, Douglas could see the year- 
ling sentinel standing at attention on his post 
and Littlefield’s sword sweep down in salute, 
and our young friend felt the first keen de- 


AT WEST POINT 


light that comes to the soldier as he receives 
his military honors. 

“ There may be a lot of 1 B.J.ety ’ in that 
aggregation/’ said a first classman, “ but they 
are the best drilled plebes that I ever saw 
march into this camp.” 

“ I agree with you , 1 Lengthy ’ ” (for such was 
the young man’s nickname) ; “ everything that 
Littlefield takes hold of soon becomes the best 
ever seen. He and Swayne would make good 
soldiers out of a lot of tobacco signs.” 

“ Look at that leading guide,” said Lengthy 
enthusiastically, “ I never saw a better set up 
plebe. He marches like a regular.” 

“ That’s what he is. He’s young Atwell, 
the lad who won his cadetship from the ranks 
in the Philippines — the chap who thrashed 
Mr. Jackson so badly over there in barracks. 
Swayne says he’s the best plebe in the class, 
and a regular 4 find ’ for the football team. 
Speedwell has had them out on the plain sev- 
eral times for practice since the examination, 
and they say Atwell showed up like a star. 
Ah, look at that. That’s fine work.” 

The column of fours had swung into line, 
and the rifles came down together to the 


A PLEBE 


1 16 

u order ” with a snap and precision that spoke 
volumes for the efficiency of the young cadet 
lieutenant who commanded them. 

The plebes had already been assigned to 
companies according to height, and the acting 
first sergeants now stood waiting in the com- 
pany streets to receive their raw material. 

“ New cadets of A Company, fall out,” com- 
manded Littlefield, and the big fellows left 
the ranks, among them Hardin and Adamson. 

“ Fall in,” said Mallory. “ Count fours ! ” 

“ D Company,” said Littlefield, and Cadet 
Corporal Kendrick took charge of the plebes 
who were to hold the other flank — big fellows 
likewise, for the companies in the battalion 
of cadets are arranged according to size, with 
the tall men on either flank and the short 
men in the centre. The giants on the right 
and left may measure six feet four, yet so per- 
fect is the grade that a spectator is astonished 
to learn that the “ main runt ” in the centre 
of the battalion measures but five feet four 
and had not a hair’s breadth to spare to secure 
his admission to the academy. 

Neither a giant nor yet a “ runt,” our 
friend Douglas found himself classified 


AT WEST POINT 


ii 7 

among the reliable middle men, and when 
Littlefield called for the plebes of B Com- 
pany, he stepped from his honorable position 
as right guide and took his place in the rear 
rank beside Rory O’Connor. 

Jackson, Storms and Smoke were in line, 
while the dapper little Swayne, keen and 
alert as a fox, was commanding his detach- 
ment to “ fall in.” With a thrill of keen de- 
light Douglas then discovered that he be- 
longed to the company of which Swayne 
was ranking corporal and Littlefield was 
senior lieutenant ; but the realization that 
he must serve again in such close proximity 
to Jackson caused him bitter disappointment. 
The nearly equal height of these two cadets 
required their assignment to either B or C 
Companies. Douglas chose the former ; Jack- 
son was forced to follow him to avoid C Com- 
pany, of which Horton, Hartz and Farrington 
were members, the former reduced to the grade 
of private, and all walking tours of extra duty 
for participation in the hazing of Jackson in 
the gymnasium on the 6th of June. As 
might have been expected, the yearlings of 
C Company were out in force that morning 


1 1 8 A PLEBE 

as the detachments marched into the com- 
pany streets. 

“ Ah ! ah ! there he comes, there he comes, 
the pretty boy, but he didn’t choose C Com- 
pany ; I wonder why — I wonder why — I 
wonder why . . sang the yearlings one 

after another in an almost inaudible under- 
tone, for the tactical officers were near, and 
ready to severely repress any evidence of 
hostility toward the plebes. 

“ Fours right, march ! Detachment halt ! ” 
Swayne swung his detachment into line with 
commendable precision and reported to Cadet 
Captain Winslow, who stood waiting in the 
street beside McLane, the acting first sergeant 
of the company, both members of the first 
class. 

“ Glad to see you back with us, Littlefield, ” 
said the young cadet captain heartily as he 
grasped his classmate by the hand. “ Hope 
you brought us a good consignment of 
plebes.” 

“ They are somewhat better than the average, 
I think,” said Littlefield. “ Here is a list of 
them arranged to show the occupants of the 
tents. I sent you a duplicate yesterday.” 


AT WEST POINT 


1 T 9 

“ Break them up, McLane, into groups ac- 
cording to tents and send them along for as- 
signment,” said the cadet captain as he handed 
over the list. 

“ Atwell, O’Connor, and Bruyard, fall out 
and report at the other end of the company 
for assignment to tent,” said the acting first 
sergeant, and as the three young men stepped 
promptly out of ranks other groups were 
tolled off and held in readiness. 

White canvas tents lined the street on both 
sides, and while the flank tents were com- 
pletely occupied by upper classmen, two in 
each tent, the interior tents were vacant and 
awaited the coming of the plebes. 

“ You will be tent-orderly, Mr. Atwell,” 
said the cadet captain as he turned the name 
of the soldier-cadet to the top of a wooden 
disk which was attached to the front tent-pole 
and bore the names of the occupants of the 
tent. “ The disk will be turned at the end of 
each week so as to show the name of the man 
on duty and therefore responsible for the con- 
dition of the tent.” 

Then as Douglas and his comrades stepped 
into the little “ home ” in which they were to 


I 20 


A PLEBE 


spend the summer, Jackson, Storms and Smoke 
advanced to be assigned. 

“ In the next tent,” said Winslow as he 
glanced at the disk on the tent-pole. 

“ But, sir,” said Jackson hesitatingly. 

“ Well ? ” said the cadet captain as he turned 
a sharp glance toward the three plebes. 

u I would like to have a tent at the other 
end of the line, sir.” 

“ You don’t happen to be assigning yourself 
in this company, Mr. Jackson. Step inside, 
sir.” 

“ We’ve got them next door to us, Rory,” 
whispered Douglas. 

“ We can’t lose ’em. It’s bad enough to 
live in the same country with a volcano, but 
we have the pleasure of camping right in the 
crater. I’m not posing as a prophet or a son 
of a prophet, but I’ll stake my reputation as a 
seer that there will be an eruption of 1 old 
faithful Jackson ’ within twenty-four hours.” 

“ Ah can improve on that,” groaned Jacques. 
“ It will come to-night. Ah kin feel the earth 
tremble a’ready.” 

u It’s your knees, Jacques. They’ve been 
batting together all morning like a flail on a 


AT WEST POINT 


I 21 


bare barn floor,” laughed Rory as he ducked be- 
neath the stretcher and inserted his rifle in 
the gun-rack. The latter consisted of a pine 
board nailed horizontally to the rear vertical 
tent-pole and having three holes for the rifle 
barrels. The butts of the rifles rested in small 
cleats nailed to the wooden tent floor — a solid 
board platform, eight feet nine inches square, 
raised a few inches from the ground by 
wooden supports at each corner, and in this 
limited area three plebes were expected to 
live in comfort and harmony, and maintain 
an appearance of irreproachable neatness. 

Three lockers, about three feet long, sixteen 
inches wide, and sixteen inches deep, provided 
the only space for the plebes’ underclothing, 
etc., while the wooden lid upon the top was 
designed to furnish a hard, stoical seat in 
keeping with the Spartan character of the 
plebe. Each tent was also provided with 
two stretchers — shallow, rectangular, wooden 
frames about six feet long and two feet wide 
with canvas stretched across the lower surface, 
which were to be used as receptacles for white 
trousers and other articles of wearing apparel. 
One of these stretchers was hung parallel to 


122 


A PLEBE 


the ridge pole, and the other somewhat lower 
and at right angles to it, and our three young 
friends were now busily engaged hauling 
down these handy litters “ to return to bar- 
racks individually, and drag back all personal 
e beets/’ 

“ Come on, boys,” said Douglas as he seized 
one of the stretchers, “ I’ll help Rory first and 
then we’ll combine and drag over the patri- 
arch’s stuff, and begin housekeeping in ear- 
nest.” 

Away went the three boys toward barracks, 
perspiring, but happy to be at last really 
within that great camp where so many famous 
soldiers have served their apprenticeship. The 
drums rattled off the assembly for drill, the 
yearlings marched briskly off toward the 
battery of light artillery drawn up on the 
plain ; the first classmen toward the line of 
saddled cavalry horses in front of the library, 
to dash off for a fine reconnaissance through 
the picturesque hills of the highlands. Camp 
was almost deserted except for the cadet 
sentinels, who formed a cordon about camp 
and prevented the ingress or egress of un- 
authorized persons. The second class was ab- 


AT WEST POINT 


123 


sent on furlough, that bright, sunny period of 
rest, recreation and recuperation in four long 
years of strenuous cadet life which terminates 
on the 28th of August, but is cherished till 
memory fails and worn out limbs are totter- 
ing on the verge of the grave. Among these 
happy furloughmen were the sergeants and 
the first sergeants of the corps, and during 
their absence their duties were performed by 
and their privileges enjoyed by the yearlings 
who now thundered across the plain in the 
spectacular light artillery drill. 

How Douglas, Roderick and Jacques as 
they “ dragged ” their heavy burdens across 
to camp, envied these exalted upper classmen 
and vaguely wondered if they would ever 
possess their matchless bearing, their wonder- 
ful coolness and self-control. They realized 
that they had made some progress, however, 
for all parts of the uniform had been issued 
them, and each now possessed eight pairs of 
white duck trousers, a full dress hat with its 
picturesque brass plate, and a bran-new dress 
coat with glistening bell buttons — the garment 
which has made the West Point uniform the 
smartest costume in the world. 


124 


A PLEBE 


“ Get out the regulations, Douglas, and 
read us the instructions on housekeeping in a 
tent,” said Roderick as he stood panting and 
dripping with perspiration between two great 
stretchers packed with clothing. “ Perhaps 
that book knows how to do it, but I don't. 
Three weeks ago when I had two rooms all to 
myself, I thought I was shamefully crowded, 
but now I am expected to pack twenty cubic 
feet of luggage in ten cubic feet of space and 
live with two other lusty plebes in what is left.” 

Douglas read the instructions and then he 
and Jacques set to work to help Rory in the 
solution of his problem. Lockers were packed 
to the lids. Tooth pow^der, brushes, soap, 
shaving materials, were lined up at the end 
of the locker ; the wash bowl was set with 
edge on the ground and resting against the 
tent floor, and a tripod to hold it for washing 
purposes was driven into the earth at the for- 
ward left hand corner of the tent. 

“ Now, Rory, you may fold all the bedding 
and pile it with folded edges out, just as you 
see in that yearling’s tent across the street,” 
said Douglas, “ while Jacques and I sling up 
these stretchers.” 


AT WEST POINT 


I2 5 


“ All right, cap,” said Rory, as he stumbled 
about among the shoes, “ I know I will have 
to live in the back yard mostly to keep from 
ruining the firm on demerits. I feel like a 
caged grizzly.” 

But at last the work was finished, and the 
upper classmen came streaming back into 
camp from drill. As the yearlings hurried 
down the street one of them stepped into the 
tent, and our three young friends promptly 
jumped to attention. The yearling was a 
stockily built lad with square, erect shoulders 
and a somewhat swaggering gait which all the 
efforts of three upper classes the preceding 
year had failed to correct. The newcomer 
folded his arms, assumed a kingly aspect as 
he surveyed the plebes, and demanded in a 
low, theatrical tone, “ Your names, plebe- 
lings.” 

“Mr. Atwell, sir.” 

“ Mr. Bruyard, sah.” 

“ Mr. O’Connor, sir.” 

“ Ah, ’tis well. And mine is Bobbie Burns 
MacGregor, sir, a very tired gentleman, sir, 
who is in search of an extra duty man, sir. 

“ I’ve gone the weary way of the plebe, and 


126 


A PLEBE 


having arrived at the exalted rank of year- 
ling, I long for a strong and lusty son of toil to 
raise the burden from my shoulders. Mr. At- 
well, my locker contains much boodle. There 
are lemons galore, and sugar, and a lemon 
squeezer, and an empty shaker, and whereas I 
have a thirst that tastes like a cotton field, I 
have no water, Mr. Atwell. I would not haze 
a helpless plebe, not I, sir, nor ask a helpless 
plebe to perform menial service, but if you in- 
sist, Mr. Atwell, on going into my locker and 
making ‘ lemos ’ for three — yourself, myself, 
and my wife (tent-mate) I’m not so inconsid- 
erate as to ignore the urgency of a gentleman. 
Tut, tut, Mr. Bruyard, don’t smile, sir. Odds 
blood, ’tis serious matter.” 

And then Mr. MacGregor withdrew with an 
expression on his face that would have created 
a thirst in a marble statue, and Douglas picked 
up his hat and made directly for the locker. 

This was menial service, to be sure, and per- 
formed practically under orders, yet the at- 
mosphere, the good fellowship, the copartner- 
ship of the whole proceeding seemed to rob it 
of all degrading aspects, and Douglas enjoyed 
the cold glass of “ lemo ” which MacGregor 


AT WEST POINT 


1 2 7 


insisted on his drinking quite as much as did 
the jovial fellow who commanded his service. 

It was fifteen minutes before the formation 
for dinner when Douglas returned to his tent, 
and hurried into a pair of immaculate white 
ducks, for the plebes were to appear in white 
for the first time, and the formation was to 
take place a few minutes earlier than usual in 
order to size the company and assign the 
members to their new places. 

The plebes dashed into ranks at the com- 
mand, “ Fall in,” by the first sergeant, and the 
upper classmen leisurely followed, forming in 
Indian file. Then McLane and Cadet Captain 
Winslow rapidly shifted their men until the 
company graded imperceptibly from the tall- 
est in front to the shortest at the end of the 
line. 

The column closed up, forming two lines, 
the upper classmen in the front rank, the 
plebes in the rear ; and as he faced to the 
front, Douglas discovered with a shiver that 
Jackson was on his immediate left. Not a 
word had passed between them since their 
furious fight in cadet barracks, for the follow- 
ing morning Jackson had gone to the hospital 


128 


A PLEBE 


and had not returned until the orders were 
received to march to camp. Thus no light 
had been thrown on the incident which oc- 
curred after the fight, and Douglas was still 
deeply mystified as why that half burned 
match should have been found in his alcove 
beside his humble grip-sack, one strap of 
which appeared to have been unbuckled when 
he returned to his room after the investigation 
by Littlefield and Captain Barton. 

Apparently the latter had looked lightly 
upon his offense against discipline, for as yet 
Douglas had been awarded no punishment 
and would probably escape with only a few 
demerits, while Jackson must answer not only 
for participation: in a fight but also for his in- 
subordinate conduct in ranks at drill, which 
was the cause of the trouble. All evidence of 
feeling must now be concealed, however, for 
elbow to elbow Douglas must march again in 
the ranks beside his old-time enemy, and 
every act of either must influence the other. 
Against such unpleasant situations there is 
no appeal in a system which operates without 
partiality, favor or affection, recognizes neither 
love nor hatred, and fixes men’s position with 


AT WEST POINT 


129 


respect to each other according to the number 
of inches they stand in their government shoes. 
For this reason, O’Connor, the staunch friend 
of Douglas, but taller by one inch, was not 
by his side, but rather the left file of the 
second squad to his right, while Bruyard, 
the tallest plebe in the company, held the 
extreme right flank. Storms and Smoke, 
though heavier by many pounds, were in 
order upon the “ patriarch’s ” left. 

The companies formed rapidly upon the 
parade ground, and then Cadet Captain God- 
win, the senior captain of the battalion, a red 
sash encircling his waist and a light sword 
glittering in his hand, walked out to the front 
and centre. His was the highest office in the 
gift of the military academy, awarded only to 
men of sterling worth and for military effi- 
ciency of the highest order. He was Swayne 
grown three years older and an inch taller. 

“ Platoons left turn, march ! ” rang out the 
young cadet officer’s clear command, and 
every syllable was audible at the cadet hos- 
pital nearly a half mile distant. 

“ Forward march, guide right ! ” 

Like a perfect machine the battalion moved 


i 3 ° 


A PLEBE 


forward to the exhilarating music of the fife 
and drum corps, and though but an humble 
plebe, Bobbie Burns MacGregor’s rear rank 
file, yet Douglas was thrilled with the martial 
spirit of the march, and needed no urgency of 
the file closers to “ hold up his head, get his 
shoulders back, and throw out his chest.” 

The plebes no longer ate together, but were 
now assigned according to companies with the 
upper classmen, and Douglas found himself as 
“ gunner ” of Littlefield’s table, for every cadet 
officer is commandant of a table in the Mess 
Hall and has the right to select ten cadets in 
the order of his rank. It was gratifying to 
Douglas to find that Littlefield, the senior 
lieutenant of the company, had chosen him 
among the plebes, and equally agreeable to 
find O’Connor on his right and Bruyard on 
his left. Among the yearlings was MacGregor, 
whose jolly, cheerful disposition attracted the 
best men of the upper class quite as much as 
his reckless disregard of discipline annoyed 
them. 

There was no disposition on the part of the 
upper classmen at the table to embarrass the 
plebes, so the meal passed most pleasantly, and 


AT WEST POINT 


* 3 * 

Douglas began to believe that the stories of 
hazing in camp had been grossly exaggerated. 
In fact he looked forward with keen delight 
to the life on the tented plain, where he might 
sleep in the open air, and share again the 
hardships and pleasures of the soldier. 

A sharp, snappy drill under Swayne and 
Littlefield occupied a portion of the afternoon, 
and at half-past five, when the upper classmen 
turned out in their fine dress coats and im- 
maculate ducks for full-dress parade, the 
plebes were marched to the rear of the camp 
to be prepared for future participation in this 
august ceremony. 

Darkness had fallen on the first day in 
camp and tallow candles sputtered here and 
there in tents where friends had gathered to- 
gether to chat away the evening, but the ma- 
jority of the yearlings were forming the ac- 
quaintance of the plebes. Numbers visited 
Douglas’ tent, and while the manner of a few 
was open to objection, the majority merely 
enjoyed a few pleasantries at the plebes’ ex- 
pense and moved genially on ; but not a man 
entered Jackson’s tent. Each visitor glanced 
up at the orderly board on the tent-pole, noted 


132 


A PLEBE 


the name, and passed on with a contemptuous, 
withering glance within, and one was heard 
to remark in passing, “ Jackson — he is be- 
neath contempt. We let such gentlemen as 
that alone — at least until his case has been 
decided.” 

And while it was annoying, embarrassing, 
perhaps deeply humiliating to some to be held 
at attention, the butt of the witticisms of the 
men who had but three weeks before stepped 
out of their plebedom, yet it was infinitely 
more galling to be passed contemptuously by 
as a thing unworthy of their idlest mo- 
ments. 

Douglas and his tent-mates bore the good- 
natured raillery without a sign of impatience, 
and were exchanging congratulations on the 
mildness of the hazing they had received, 
when Bobbie MacGregor jumped underneath 
the rear tent flap with his arms full of 
trappings. 

“ Mr. O’Connor,” said he, “ it has been re- 
ported to the august high council of the year- 
ling class that you reserved some hundreds of 
dollars from the treasurer, or attempted to re- 
serve the same, for the purpose of paying for 


AT WEST POINT 


*33 

‘ carriages and flowers for the hops/ during 
plebe camp.” 

Rory started and blushed. He had hoped 
that his indiscretions on the first day of his 
stay at West Point had been forgotten. “ I 
did say something like that, sir, but ” 

“ But me no buts, sir. You have won a 
hop, but we call ’em 4 soirees ’ in our exclusive 
coterie. Now, Mr. O’Connor, we’ll dress for 
the ball. All D Company awaits you.” 

So saying, Bobbie placed a battered hat with 
high plume, faced backward, on Rory’s head, 
slipped a bespangled pasteboard jacket about 
his waist, clapped on a big cavalry sabre, and 
handed the poor plebe a pair of huge spurs. 

“ Milord goes mounted, carriages being con- 
trary to regulations, and I would not violate 
regulations, not I, sir. The mount awaits 
without,” and MacGregor pulled up to the 
edge of the tent a small toy horse tied to the 
end of a string. 

“You are to escort Lady Bruyard, Mr. At- 
well, and then you are to furnish the music 
for the ball. I saw you toying with your 
harp this evening when I passed to recon- 
noitre.” 


A PLEBE 


134 

“ A harp, sir? ” said Douglas in surprise. 

“Aye, aye, sir, a harp — ajew’s-harp, whose 
soft music will make the young cavalier to 
dance this night at the ball. Lay hold of that 
dark-eyed' gazelle whom you are to escort 
and drive on.” 

“ Draw saber ! ” shouted MacGregor, affect- 
ing the peculiar manner of the senior in- 
structor in cavalry tactics. “ Trot, march ! ” 

Bobbie MacGregor was a “ chap who could 
make a dog laugh ” and our two young friends 
were quite as much amused as he while they 
went galloping down the street behind poor 
Rory as he shouted his commands to the war 
horse which was supposed to be bearing him to 
the ball. The tent flaps were drawn aside at a 
half-darkened tent in D Company, and here 
the party entered. A single candle flickered 
in a tin box, but its light was skilfully con- 
fined to a small area, and not a face could be 
recognized among the half dozen mischievous 
yearlings who awaited the fun. 

“ Music, music, Mr. Atwell, my soul perishes 
for music,” said MacGregor as he peered 
through the opening between the tent-flaps 
and kept his eye on the company street for 


AT WEST POINT 


1 35 

any inquisitive officer who might be attracted 
thither. u Strike up your fiddle there, you 
plebe,” he sang to a small dark figure in the 
back of the tent. 

“ I don’t know how to pla}^ sir,” came back 
the answer and Douglas recognized the voice 
as that of little Dalton, Lady Bruyard’s “ son.” 

“ Mister,” said MacGregor, “ I’m a goat, 1 
and I’ve been doing things I didn’t know 
how to do ever since I came to the academy. 
Now step out and play.” Little Dalton be- 
gan to draw a reluctant bow across the cat- 
gut ; Douglas to strum dismally on his jew’s- 
harp, making a frightful discord, while Rory 
seized the willowy Jacques in his arms and 
began to waltz. Dumb-bells, Indian-clubs and 
other paraphernalia were scattered about the 
floor over which the dancers stumbled as 
Lady Bruyard muttered all kinds of terrible 
things in French. Rory’s high plume butted 
into the low stretcher, his hat slipped over his 
eyes, and in his efforts to save his head-gear, 
his sabre swung loose, slipped between Jac- 
ques’ feet and sent him sprawling over the 
violinist. 


1 Goat : A member of the lowest section in a class. 


A PLEBE 


13 6 

Now, it happened that the big plebe, Zeke 
Shanks, had entered the company street a few 
minutes before this accident in search of “ Mr. 
Atwell, who was wanted immediately at Mr. 
Littlefield’s tent on important business/’ and 
to MacGregor, standing on the outside of the 
tent, the moment seemed opportune for a 
little additional diversion. 

Zeke was hauled into a near-by tent, a bat- 
tered uniform blouse and officer’s hat that 
Bobbie had “ acquired ” were clapped upon 
him, and just as an irate yearling was rescu- 
ing his crushed violin from beneath Lady 
Bruyard, Zeke was shoved into the tent full 
of hazers. 

At the sight of the uniform, Douglas sprang 
to attention, but the candle was instantly 
overturned, and in the darkness he was 
knocked from his feet and carried through 
the tent-wall by the mad rush of the year- 
lings in their efforts to escape. A moment 
of terrible confusion followed, which was 
terminated however as Zeke shouted at the 
top of his voice, “I ain’t an officer. I ain’t 
an officer. I’m only Mr. Shanks, sir. I’m 
looking for Mr. Atwell, sir.” 


AT WEST POINT 


1 37 


And as Douglas was “ excused ” and with- 
drew and several yearlings set out to find 
Bobbie MacGregor, “ Mr. Shanks, sir ” was 
hauled into the tent to dance at the ball. 

When Douglas reached the designated tent 
he found there assembled Cadets Winslow and 
Littlefield of the first class, Swayne, Day 
and Hamilton of the third, while Jackson, 
pale as death, was seated among them. All 
were sitting in perfect silence, and it was ap- 
parent that important business was before 
them. 

“ Mr. Atwell,” said Winslow in a low tone 
as our young friend entered, “ I am going to 
explain to you fully why you are called 
here, and then I am going to ask you an 
important question. 

“ You should understand that Mr. Jackson 
has been accused of making a false and mis- 
leading statement which, if proved against 
him, would show him to be guilty of conduct 
unbecoming a cadet and gentleman, and 
while his guilt could not perhaps be estab- 
lished before a court-martial, the verdict of 
this meeting would make his position intoler- 
able and would force him out of the corps of 


A PLEBE 


138 

cadets. At a meeting of the first and third 
classes to discuss this matter, it was resolved 
that a committee from each class should be ap- 
pointed to call Mr. Jackson and other persons 
before it and privately determine the facts 
and then report them to the corps, with a 
recommendation in the case. The gentlemen 
here to-night are the members of the com- 
mittees of the first and third classes, and con- 
stitute what might be called * a Cadet Court of 
Honor.’ It is only fair to you to say that 
we do not exist by virtue of regulations and 
that our proceedings have no official sanction. 

“ And now, Mr. Atwell,” continued the 
cadet captain in a still lower tone, “ we be- 
lieve that your testimony as to what hap- 
pened in your room on the 6th of June is ab- 
solutely necessary to come to a finding, and 
we have therefore framed the following ques- 
tion : Was Mr. Jackson’s detention at the 
gymnasium by upper classmen the real cause 
of his failure to make up his bed as ordered, 
or did he absolutely and positively neglect to 
do so when ample and sufficient opportunity 
was given him ? ” 

Silence followed, and Jackson clutched the 



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AT WEST POINT 


1 39 


arms of his chair convulsively as he bent for- 
ward and waited in an agony of fear and ap- 
prehension for the answer. 

Douglas felt the blood surge to his face, and 
then recede and leave him cold and chilly^, 
and he looked squarely at his questioner, the 
president of the cadet court of honor, and an- 
swered in a clear, firm voice, “ I decline to an- 
swer, sir.’ 7 


CHAPTER VII 


TROUBLES BREWING 

Jackson sank back in his chair with a look 
of intense relief when he heard Douglas utter 
his refusal to give testimony before the “ Cadet 
Court of Honor,” and the upperclassmen pres- 
ent looked up in astonishment. It is a rare 
experience, indeed, to find a plebe who “ de- 
clines ” to do anything he is expected to do by 
the upper classes, yet here was one who re- 
fused to speak before the most august body the 
corps could assemble, thereby inviting a situa- 
tion which many a plebe would do much to 
avoid. 

“ Why do you decline to answer, Mr. At- 
well ? ” said Winslow quietly as soon as he had 
recovered from his surprise at the unexpected 
turn matters had taken. 

“ My relations to Mr. Jackson have been 
such, sir, that any evidence I might give could 
not be separated from my personal feeling. 
We are not friends — I fought him in my room 
in barracks not two weeks ago, and however 

140 


AT WEST POINT 


Hi 

honest I might be, no one could believe that I 
had given unprejudiced testimony. This 
alone, I think, should excuse me, but in addi- 
tion I would say that Mr. Jackson and I 
served together in the Philippines, and during 
that campaign relations were established which 
prevent me from testifying concerning him 
unless required to do so before a court- 
martial.’ ’ 

“ We know of your fight with Mr. Jackson,” 
said Winslow, “ and we will make due allow- 
ance for the personal element in your testi- 
mony.” 

“ I must still decline to testify, sir.” 

“ Will you explain why ? ” said Winslow 
in a tone of some impatience, while the year- 
lings showed unmistakable evidences of rising 
temper, for the whole case rested upon this 
testimony which a plebe was refusing to give. 

“ I decline to do so because I feel that it 
would be dishonorable. As yet I can claim 
no familiarity with the code of the corps, but 
I have served under graduates of the academy, 
and I think that honor is about the same the 
world over, and that a man does a dishonora- 
ble thing when he weakly yields to an act 


142 


A PLEBE 


from which he shrinks in a moral sense. It 
ought to be clear to this court that neither 
fear nor stubbornness impels me, but that I am 
actuated by purely moral motives.” 

“ I can understand your point, Mr. Atwell,” 
said Winslow, “ but you must consider that 
if you know this man to be guilty, and you 
still refuse to answer, you put the sanction of 
your class upon a dishonorable act and permit 
a falsehood to go unpunished.” 

“ My class knows absolutely nothing about 
what happened in my room, sir ; I am the 
only person who knows, and the class cannot 
sanction what they do not know.” 

The light of the candles in a tin box flick- 
ered and sputtered in the night breeze, and in 
the long impressive silence that followed 
Douglas felt his temples throbbing as he 
glanced at the anxious, tense faces about him. 
Certainly they were all in desperate earnest, 
for nothing can exceed the persistence with 
which the corps of cadets pursues a falsehood, 
and no punishment is deemed too great for the 
offense. 

At last the long silence was broken by one 
of the yearlings. 


AT WEST POINT 


*43 


“ Would you consider it dishonorable,” said 
he, “ to say that Mr. Jackson had committed 
no offense at all — in other words, to completely 
exonerate him from the charge ? ” 

Douglas hesitated, and every man watched 
him with suspended breath. 

“ No, sir,” he said at length, and Jackson’s 
nervous fingers again clutched the arms of the 
chair. 

“ Then your refusal to answer is an ac- 
knowledgment that an answer would inevita- 
bly convict ? ” 

“ No, sir,” said Douglas emphatically, “ not 
before a 1 Cadet Court of Plonor ’ as I could im- 
agine it. Had I not thought this body of men 
incapable of reaching a verdict without positive 
testimony, I would have refused absolutely to 
answer all questions. To say that my answer 
convicts Mr. Jackson is to say that the pre- 
sumption of guilt which brought him before 
you to-night is conclusive proof of his guilt. 
I have not given one word of testimony as to 
what happened in my room, nor shall I, be- 
cause ” 

“ Because you are stubborn, Mr. Atwell,” 
interrupted a second yearling hotly, “ because 


i 4 4 


A PLEBE 


you are defying the upper classes, making laws 
for the corps, and attempting to protect a man 
against the natural consequences of his acts. 
Plebes do that sort of thing at their peril.” 

“ Steady, gentlemen, steady,” said Little- 
field soothingly. “ I think Mr. Atwell's point 
is well taken. It certainly would be a trav- 
esty to urge one man to do a thing against 
which he has conscientious scruples in order 
to secure evidence which we believe would 
establish another’s guilt. Moreover, we have 
already admitted that the charge would prob- 
ably fail before a court-martial, and Mr. At- 
well is in duty bound to testify only before 
such a body. I am quite sure that he is not 
4 stubborn,’ that he is not trying to ‘ protect ’ 
Mr. Jackson, and if he objects to giving testi- 
mony he has a perfect right to do so, and as 
his testimony is absolutely necessary to arrive 
at a conclusion, I think there is nothing more 
for us to do at present.” 

“ In which I entirely agree,” said Winslow 
decisively, and the angry yearlings restrained 
their feelings only with apparent effort. “ So 
your final decision is not to testify, Mr. At- 
well ? ” 


AT WEST POINT 


H5 


“ It is, sir/’ said Douglas firmly. 

“ Then you and Mr. Jackson are excused. 
You may return to your tents.” 

Douglas stepped out of the tent and walked 
rapidly down the street. He had fully ex- 
pected this request of the upper classes for a 
statement from him, had thought out every 
feature of the case, and had finally resolved 
not to give the testimony that would convict 
Jackson of falsehood, unless justice in its 
authorized and legal forms should require 
him to do so under oath. 

As he hurried along, Jackson followed 
closely behind and overtook him as they 
passed within the shadow of some darkened 
tents at the end of the company street. 

“ Atwell,” said he, hesitatingly. 

“ Well, what is it ? ” said Douglas, as he 
paused and faced Jackson impatiently. 

“ I — I thank you for standing up for the 
class and refusing to support those brutes in 
trumping up a false charge against me. They 
are simply trying to punish me for refusing 
to submit to degrading treatment, and they 
would like to force you to justify the brutality 
of a fake court. But they didn’t do it,” con- 


A PLEBE 


146 

tinued Jackson spitefully. “ Your excuse for 
not testifying against — against the class, was 
fine — that 4 honor ’ card was a trump.” 

“ Jackson,” said Douglas hotly, “ you may 
not understand a sentiment of honor, but 
don’t dare to insinuate that I don’t, or I will 
knock you down. I declined to answer to- 
night, not to evade, not to defeat the ends of 
justice, but because I would not respect myself 
if I yielded to the desire to punish you as you 
deserve. Let me tell you, Jackson, that I 
despise your conduct in this affair, that I de- 
spise you for your shirking and trickery in 
the Philippines, and while I will keep silent 
about the past, I warn you that if you cross 
my path in the future by so much as a hair’s 
breadth I will fight you with all my strength, 
and if you don’t conduct yourself like a man, 
I will turn upon you and drive you from the 
corps like the coward you are.” 

Jackson’s face became livid and distorted. 
He clenched his fist and sprang at Douglas, 
but the remembrance of the fearful drubbing 
he had received in his room flashed across his 
mind, and in despair he dropped his hands, 
and dashed off to his tent. 


AT WEST POINT 


147 


Douglas watched him with mingled feelings 
of pity and contempt. The gulf between 
them was wider than ever, and the new ani- 
mosities stirred up that night were destined 
to yield consequences that would try the moral 
fibre of Douglas Atwell to the very limit. 

When he reached his tent, O’Connor and 
Bruyard were back from the “ ball ” and were 
making down their beds on the hard, bare 
floor, for the drummers were rattling off tattoo 
on the general parade and all must be in bed 
in half an hour. 

The news that Jackson was to be exonerated 
of the charge of falsehood had already spread 
through camp, for the interest in this case had 
risen to fever heat and the verdict of the men 
who had been entrusted with the affair was 
awaited with the keenest anxiety. 

“ I hear he escapes,” said one of the year- 
lings to an excited group of his class, “ because 
that pig-headed plebe, Mr. Atwell, refused to 
tell what happened in his room. It was the 
most stubborn thing I ever heard of — refused 
flat-footed to give testimony and talked as if 
he were the whole ‘ Court of Honor ’ itself. 
In fact he took the whole case right out of the 


A PLEBE 


148 

hands of the upper classes and insisted on 
protecting Mr. Jackson.” 

“ Littlefield sustained him,” continued 
another. “ Winslow followed suit, and we’ve 
got to stand by and see the plebe class laugh 
at us, put a premium on a dishonorable 
act, and trample on traditions as old as the 
academy.” 

“ Was Mr. Atwell made to understand 
his responsibility in such a case ? ” asked a 
third. 

“ Absolutely. Hamilton says he’s the coolest, 
B. J.est plebe he ever heard of, and that after 
he had been warned that he was defying the 
upper classes at his peril, he repeated his re- 
fusal to answer.” 

“ And what was the result ? ” 

“ Why, the committee was forced to render 
a verdict of * not guilty,’ that is officially ; but 
morally, it’s the coldest case of guilt that ever 
escaped punishment. Mr. Atwell was forced 
to admit that if he gave testimony it would 
convict Mr. Jackson, but he pig-headedly re- 
fused to testify, so we’ve got to grin and bear 
it. The verdict of the corps will be 1 not 
guilty, with great regrets.’ ” 


AT WEST POINT 


149 

“ On what grounds did Mr. Atwell refuse to 
answer ? ” 

“ Moral grounds — conscientious scruples, 
and there he tied our hands, for we can’t at- 
tack a man’s principles, no matter what they 
may be, but I’ll be hanged if I can see what 
scruples a man can have against exposing a 
case of dishonor.” 

“ Nor I,” emphatically chorused a number 
of yearlings. 

“ It sounds theatrical and looks like a case 
of pig-head,” continued the first speaker. 
“ Because that plebe was made right guide 
and complimented on his football showing, 
he thinks he’s the main bolt in the band 
wagon. In fact the whole history of this 
plebe class shows the need of drastic measures 
of reform. There was Mr. Durkin caught 
blowing about how he proposed licking the 
whole corps ; then Mr. Jackson disobeys 
orders, makes a false official statement, laughs 
when the upper classmen are punished for 
hazing him, and now Mr. Atwell steps in and 
says, 'Hands off! He can’t be punished.’ 
Are we going to stand it ? ” 

"No,” came back the decided answer. 


A PLEBE 


150 

“ Better go slow, boys,” urged one of the 
conservatives. “ If Littlefield supported Mr. 
Atwell and Winslow supported Littlefield, the 
plebe was right, and I am willing to wait the 
lead of older files than myself.” 

But temperate counsel was of no avail, and 
when taps sounded that night the turbulent 
element of the yearling class was denouncing 
the “ B.J. plebe ” in unmeasured terms, and 
some were demanding that he be called out 
to fight. 

While these angry yearlings were discuss- 
ing the situation, Douglas was lying on the 
hard tent-floor between O’Connor and Bru- 
yard relating such of his experience as he 
thought not confidential and listening to their 
enthusiastic support of his conduct. 

Three sharp raps on the drum at the guard- 
house suspended conversation, candles were 
extinguished throughout camp in an instant, 
and Littlefield and Winslow dashed along the 
line of B Company tents, turning the glare of 
their dark lanterns upon every bed with the 
question — “ All in?” to which each tent-or- 
derly replied, “ All in, sir.” 

The noise of the active camp completely 


AT WEST POINT 


l 5 l 

ceased, and Winslow, having reported the re- 
sult of his inspection to the cadet officer of 
the day, returned to the company street to 
pace slowly up and down to see that all re- 
mained quiet and orderly. 

The silvery light of the moon came slant- 
ingly across the highlands and filtered softly 
down through the giant oaks that surround 
camp upon the tops of the gray tents where 
nearly four hundred young men lay thinking 
— all thinking of practically the same thing. 
Only the sound of the weary sentinels’ tread 
broke the stillness of the camp as they drifted 
hazily along their posts beneath the changing 
shadows, and as Douglas watched their manly 
young figures he felt a return of the courage 
that was wavering just a trifle in the reaction 
that followed the interview before the court. 
O’Connor and Bruyard had dozed off to sleep 
in a few moments, and he felt alone and free 
to think, and as he mentally reviewed the 
situation again and again he resolved that he 
could not, and would not, alter his course of 
action. 

Jackson, too, was wide awake, his brows 
knit, his eyes staring straight at the stretcher 


! 5 2 


A PLEBE 


above his head, but what he saw was not a 
mere bit of canvas stretched across a rec- 
tangular frame, but rather an alcove in room 
55, cadet barracks, where he crouched in bare 
feet over a poor traveling-bag with a lighted 
match in his hand. And the imaginary 
spectacle seemed to yield balm to his wounded 
feelings, to compensate for the drubbing he 
had received that night in his fight with 
Douglas Atwell. 

“ It is that 1 dog-robber’s ’ turn now,” he 
mused, “ but wait.” 

A half hour had passed since taps, and the 
sentinel on No. 1 pulled down his rifle to the 
“port” and sang out his slow solemn call, 
“ Half-past-ten-o’clock, and a-l-l’s we-1-1.” 
Each sentinel in turn repeated the call until 
it had passed completely around camp, and 
the sentinel on No. 1, still standing at the 
“ port,” turned his voice toward the guard- 
tent with the report, “ A-l-l’s we-1-1.” 

“ Officially,” mentally added the officer of 
the guard as he raised his eyes from his guard 
report and looked musingly out through the 
darkness toward Fort Clinton, where he had 
his first fight when a plebe in camp. 


AT WEST POINT 


1 53 


The next morning Douglas sprang nimbly 
from his blankets as the reveille gun crashed 
out its salute to the rising sun at five o’clock, 
and at 5:20, spick and span as from a band- 
box, he jumped into ranks as rear rank file to 
sleepy Bobbie MacGregor, and answered his 
name when McLane rattled off the roll-call. 
The atmosphere of the preceding night was 
completely .dissipated in the activity of the 
early morning, and Douglas soon forgot his 
anxieties, for hard work is a panacea for most 
mental ills. 

“ I’ll stay inside and take care of the tent, 
Rory,” said he, “ as I am tent-orderly, and 
you and Jacques do the policing in the street. 
We’ve got to work fast,” and suiting the action 
to the words he began with a will. 

Bits of paper and other inorganic refuse 
were tossed into the street, this being the only 
time that “ policing ” was permitted. After 
sweeping out the tent, Douglas rapidly folded 
and piled the bedding in one corner of the 
tent, each article coming in its prescribed 
order — blankets first, comfortables next, then 
the sheets and finally the pillows, all exactly 
in line and with the folded edges out. The 


154 


A PLEBE 


extra shoes were lined up, toes to the front, 
along the rear edge of the floor, and the 
cleaning-box was shoved in close to the end 
of the lockers, while the dress coats, etc., were 
carefully hung from the rear of the lower 
stretcher. 

In the meantime Jacques and Kory, under 
McLane’s energetic supervision, had swept up 
all refuse into a pile in the centre of the com- 
pany street, and red-headed Charley, the big 
policeman of B Company, was coming along 
with his wheelbarrow and shovel. 

“ Now drag your brooms across the street as 
soon as Charley takes up the rubbish,” shouted 
McLane, and Rory and Jacques soon had the 
street in front of the tent beautifully “dragged ” 
and irreproachably clean, and were then per- 
mitted to return to their tents, while a small 
plebe near the flank of the company had 
actually left three bits of straw “ hay stacks ” 
McLane called them, and was a subject for 
severe discipline. 

“ We’ve got to shave, wash and dress in 
twenty minutes,” gasped Rory as he plunged 
into his locker and spilled things about the 
floor. “ Last summer when I read that Vassar 


AT WEST POINT 


*55 

girl’s story of ‘ Life at West Point ’ which fired 
my young ambition to become a soldier, I 
gathered that reveille was a sort of Homeric 
picnic conducted according to Hoyle, under 
the heroic splendor of the morning sun. 
Policing and 1 dragging 9 were not on the 
bill, but oh, mother 99 

Douglas was hard at work, but Jacques sat 
solemnly upon the locker dreaming of eight 
o’clock breakfast at Baton Rouge, a lovely 
breakfast of fried chicken and muffins, buck- 
wheat cakes and molasses, and perfecto pud- 
ding, and Jacques was deaf to all entreaty to 
“ step out.” 

“ Don’t you make up my bed or drag any 
water for me while I’m not looking, Mr. 
Atwell,” shouted MacGregor as he poked his 
head out of the tent. “ I don’t allow plebes 
to do menial service for me, sir.” 

“ All right, sir,” said Douglas grasping the 
meaning of the words, and he seized his hat 
and dashed across the street, while MacGregor 
gazed at him over his shaving-brush with a 
mischievous expression in his blue eyes. 

“ Well, if I can’t stop you I suppose I must 
submit and suffer in silence,” continued Bobbie 


A PLEBE 


156 

with an air of deep humility. “ I never saw 
such a plebe, anyway. It makes me feel 
almost like working to watch you/’ and the 
incorrigible yearling yawned. 

Douglas rushed through his work, returned 
to his tent, and when the first drum for break- 
fast sounded out at the guard tent at 5:55 a. m. 
he had completed his toilet and was ready to 
step out of his tent in his fine fitting blouse 
and a clean pair of white ducks. Rory was 
somewhat behind, but Jacques was only in the 
middle of his shave. 

“ You’ll have to leave half your whiskers 
on, old patriarch,” laughed Rory. “ Jump 
into your clothes while we mop the lather off 
your face.” 

But all urgency was in vain ; the assembly 
sounded, Douglas and Rory rushed into ranks, 
and Jacques, frantically struggling with his 
disheveled clothing, was moving slowly toward 
his place when First Sergeant McLane faced 
about and reported “ Cadet Bruyard is absent, 
sir.” 

Poor Jacques ! Great was his offense and 
great was the official indignation produced by 
his appearance, but in the records of the mili- 


AT WEST POINT 


l S7 

tary academy the episode is tersely recorded in 
the following reports : 

Bruyard. — Late at formation for breakfast, 
one demerit. 

Same. — Appearing in company street with 
blouse unbuttoned, hair uncombed, and face 
but half shaven at formation for breakfast, 
two demerits. 

The battalion was back in camp after break- 
fast at 6:45 a. m., and at seven o’clock all were in 
ranks for the first drill of the day. The orders 
had already been published outlining the 
course for the period and the special details 
for the day had been published by the cadet 
adjutant in the Mess Hall at breakfast. The 
plebe class was divided into thirds alphabet- 
ically, and Douglas, Jacques and Jackson, of 
the first third, were detailed for instruction at 
the siege battery, while the other two sub- 
divisions of the class were tolled off respect- 
ively for light battery drill, and preliminary 
instruction in target practice. 

Douglas marched away with his detachment 
across the cavalry plain and descended the 
steep slope beyond Trophy Point to the bat- 
tery of five-inch siege guns whose long muz- 


A PLEBE 


158 

zles were directed upon the bald spot on the 
rock-ribbed sides of Cro’s Nest. He had seen 
batteries in action in the Philippines, had felt 
the earth tremble beneath their terrific dis- 
charge, but these guns were far more powerful 
and heavy than any that accompanied the 
troops through the swamps of Luzon. 

An upper classman was assigned to each 
piece to assist Captain Bowler, the handsome 
young artillery officer who was in charge of 
the drill. The first day’s instruction consisted 
principally of verbal explanations and a few 
moments in the manual of the piece, and at 
8:30 a. m. the entire class was back in camp. 

“ I was like a bull in a china shop,” said 
Rory as he rejoined his tent-mates from his 
first experience at target practice. “ Captain 
McAuley began to question me after his elo- 
quent explanation of the theory of gun sights, 
and he got me so rattled that I finally said I 
thought the rear sight had nothing to do with 
the aim and was put on the piece mostly to 
show the plebes where to put the thumb at 
present arms. Boys, mother will have her dar- 
ling boy back in old New York immediately 
after the exams, if I don’t do better than that 


AT WEST POINT 


l S9 


over in the Academic Building,” and hand- 
some Rory chuckled to himself so happily that 
one might be led to suppose that he had no 
proper appreciation of his “ grossness.” 

At nine o’clock the drums were pounding 
off the assembly once more, and the whole 
class was in ranks for infantry drill in cam- 
paign hats, gray shirts, trousers and canvas 
leggings. Littlefield, still in general charge 
of the plebe drill, stood in front of the line 
with a roll in his hand. 

“ The class,” said he, “ is hereby divided into 
squads according to the proficiency shown by 
the members up to date, and transfers will be 
made among the squads as may be necessary 
in the future. The following men will fall 
out as members of the first squad and will take 
their places on the right of the line as their 
names are called : Atwell, King, Shannon, 
Howze, etc.” 

And when Swayne, the little drill-master, 
marched off the crack squad of the class, 
Douglas suddenly realized that Jackson, the 
only other trained soldier in the ranks, was 
not among the elite. 

Rory, Jacques, Zeke Shanks and some other 


i6o 


A PLEBE 


“ goats ” were consigned to the awkward squad, 
and “ patient old Mallory ” was assigned as 
their drill-master. 

“ You will be rested often and drilled hard 
while you drill,” said Swayne, “ and you will 
give the strictest attention all the time,” and 
then he rattled off his commands with uner- 
ring accuracy and precision, and Douglas felt 
a new thrill of pleasure in his work as he 
heard the rifles ring in perfect cadence be- 
neath the hand strokes of the crack squad. 
Swayne’s manner toward him had undergone 
no change, and it was gratifying to know that 
if either Swayne or Littlefield privately con- 
demned his conduct before the “ Court of 
Honor,” they would allow no evidence of their 
feelings to creep into their official relations. 

The drill terminated at 9:45 a. m. and at 
ten o’clock the first half of the class alpha- 
betically, with bath towels and dancing pumps 
tucked under their arms, marched off to the 
swimming tank in the gymnasium. Here 
again Douglas found himself among the best 
men of his class and soon mastered the stroke 
as taught by Lieutenant Koehler, the instruc- 
tor of military gymnastics and physical culture. 


AT WEST POINT 161 

“ You will be able to qualify within a week, 
Mr. Atwell/’ said the latter as he stood on the 
diving platform and watched our young friend 
take the powerful breast stroke and ride out 
to the end of Sandy Mahan’s rope. 

“ He’s all right,” said Sandy, the veteran 
assistant instructor in the art of swimming, 
as he detached his rope from Douglas’ belt, 
made fast to Jacques and dropped him into 
the water. Jacques sank like lead, seized the 
rope and began climbing to the top. His 
eyes were distended, and he was gasping and 
spurting water like a porpoise, and in vain 
Sandy paid out his rope to the end and 
shouted down, “ Easy now, easy now. You 
ain’t goin’ to drown. Take the stroke, one, 
two, three.” But Jacques could take nothing 
on faith. His arms and legs threshed the 
water into foam, and he was finally hauled 
out gurgling, “ Kain’t swim, sah, kain’t swim 
’t al. Never been in the water in mah life, 
sah.” 

An hour later, however, the second half of 
the class arrived at the tank, and Douglas 
stood very ill at ease in his dancing pumps at 
Cullum Hall receiving his first lesson in danc- 


162 


A PLEBE 


ing, while Jacques won easy honors over his 
untrained tent-mate. 

“ Pm about in Zeke Shank’s class in that 
department,” said Douglas as the three young 
men laughed over their experiences of the 
morning and hastened through their prepara- 
tions for dinner. 

It had been a strenuous day, but neverthe- 
less at two o’clock the entire class formed for 
collective instruction in target practice and 
did not finish their work until 4 p. m. 

Not a word had been spoken to Douglas by 
the upper classes as to his refusal to furnish 
testimony before the “ Cadet Court of Honor,” 
and when night closed down upon the camp 
he was beginning to hope that the whole 
matter had been dropped, and that neither he 
nor Jackson would be molested on account of 
the affair. All such hope was promptly dis- 
pelled, however, when a yearling thrust his 
head into the tent about eight o’clock and 
asked in a low suggestive tone, “ Where does 
Mr. Jackson live?” 

“ Next tent, sir,” said Douglas as he 
dropped the brasses which he was clean- 
ing, and jumped to attention. 


AT WEST POINT 163 

“ Sit down, Mr. Jackson,” said the year- 
ling as he walked into the latter’s tent, and 
seated himself upon a locker within five feet 
of Douglas. “ I am a representative of the 
third class, Mr. Jackson, and have been dele- 
gated by my class to see you. I am author- 
ized by both the first and the third classes 
to say that so far as the charge of falsification 
is concerned, the matter is dropped. While 
individuals are free to draw their own con- 
clusions, the corps will take no action.” 

Jackson caught his breath. 

“ That charge having been dropped, the 
charge of dishonor removed, we are now at 
liberty to treat you as any other plebe. You 
publicly laughed in the Mess Hall when Mr. 
Horton of the first class was reduced to the 
ranks and Mr. Hartz and Farrington were 
punished for the fiasco which you caused in 
the gymnasium. That was a fighting offense, 
Mr. Jackson.” 

“ I was only a candidate, sir,” said Jackson 
apologetically. 

“ Who expected to become a cadet,” inter- 
rupted the yearling sharply, “ and who now is 
a plebe and therefore responsible to the corps. 


My class challenges you to a fight to a finish 
against a man whom we will name. By to- 
morrow night be ready to tell me what you 
weigh and to name your seconds.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


IN WHICH DOUGLAS ATWELL DEFENDS HIS POST 

The drum was sounding first call for 
parade, and the plebes were in a ferment 
of excitement, for they were to attend this 
great function for the first time, and there- 
after they were to be present at all parade 
formations as part of the regular battalion. 

After two weeks in camp they had acquired 
such proficiency as to justify association with 
the upper classmen, and some of them indeed 
were up to the very highest standards of the 
corps in the manual of arms and the funda- 
mental accomplishments of the soldier. The 
active outdoor life had bronzed their young 
faces and tinged their cheeks with the hardy 
flush of full health. Muscles had grown 
hard and shapely, and the shambling gait, 
awkward, inattentive, and trifling manner so 
common to young men at this period of life, 
had practically disappeared among the young 
soldiers under the corrective discipline of 
i6 5 


1 66 


A PLEBE 


upper classmen and superior officers. In 
Douglas, Roderick, and Jacques, one would 
scarcely recognize the three young men who 
reported in the hall of barracks on the 6th 
of June, when the long-haired Southerner, in 
his swallow-tailed coat and flowing beard, 
won the title of “ the Patriarch of Baton 
Rouge.’’ 

In spite of all they had learned, however, 
it was still quite apparent that they were 
plebes, for as they prepared with feverish 
haste for parade, they jostled and bumped 
into one another with irritating awkward- 
ness, whereas the upper classmen seemed in 
no wise excited or hurried. 

“ I’ve torn the canvas loose from that 
stretcher and the scalp loose from the top of 
my head, and I’ll be hanged if I don’t cut it 
down if it gets in my way again,” growled 
Rory as he sprang to the top of his locker 
and depressed his toes to slide into a pair of 
beautifully creased white ducks. His head 
brushed against the sloping top of the tent, 
which was scorching hot, for the sun of 
a sweltering day still hung high over the 
crest of the western Highlands, and the 


AT WEST POINT 167 

perspiration rolled down the eager boy’s 
face as he struggled to maintain his balance 
and also preserve the “ spooniness ” of his 
trousers. 

At last the feat was accomplished, and 
Douglas and Roderick, in dress-coats that 
fitted like kid gloves, immaculate white 
ducks, and belts clinging snugly about their 
waists and across their stalwart shoulders, 
were all ready for parade. But Jacques was 
late as usual, and terrified lest he should 
receive another reprimand for his tardi- 
ness. 

“ Help him with his trousers and belts, 
Rory, while I attend to the other things,” 
said Douglas as he hastily attached collar and 
cuffs to Jacques’ dress-coat and held it ready. 
Jacques plunged into the sleeves and all three 
began to button. 

“ In with your breath, Jacques ; more yet,” 
grunted Rory, as he strained at the lowest 
button. “ Draw it in, man, heave ! You’ve 
got two inches yet to go. Squeeze him, 
Douglas, squeeze him — hard. This dress- 
coat was built for a ram-rod, not a man. I’ll 
bet you sent in your rifle and stood in the 


1 68 


A PLEBE 


gun-rack yourself when they were taking 
measurements for uniform — didn’t you, 
Jacques ? ” 

But Jacques deigned to make no reply as 
with nervous fingers he forced the final 
button into place. Then Douglas clapped on 
the cross-belts, Rory slipped the waist-belt 
around the slender Jacques, and groaned, 
“ Csesar Augustus ! It’s three inches too 
long, and we can’t change it, for the drum 
will sound in a second. But come along, 
maybe they won’t see it. Anyway you look 
fine, Jacques, how do you feel?” 

“ Ready to bust, sah,” said Jacques w T ith 
emphatic indignation as he pulled on a pair 
of white gloves, and all three stepped out into 
the company street, for the drums were beat- 
ing the assembly. 

McLane reported the company “ all pres- 
ent,” marched smartly to his post in rear 
of the right flank. Then Winslow opened 
ranks, and Jacques’ heart sank as he heard 
the command “ Inspection arms ! ” for that 
loose belt dangled about his hips fully three 
inches below the waist line of his dress-coat, 
and as he reached for his bayonet on the left 


AT WEST POINT 169 

side he discovered, with a thrill of horror, 
that it was not there. 

“ Fall out, Mr. Bruyard, and fix your belt, 
sir,” commanded Winslow as he reached the 
right flank on his tour of inspection. 
“ Where is your bayonet ? ” 

“ In mah tent, sah,” said Jacques dejectedly, 
and Rory O’Connor had to bite, his lips till 
the blood came to keep back the laughter as 
he heard this new predicament of his erring 
tent-mate. 

The adjutant and sergeant-major had taken 
their places on the parade ground and the 
band had struck up a march before Jacques’ 
sins had been sufficiently punished and he 
was made fit for parade. As the drums rattled 
and rolled and the cornets pealed out their 
clarion notes, the company marched forward 
in perfect cadence to the march, and the pieces 
fell to the order with perfect precision as the 
company halted on its line of guides estab- 
lished by the adjutant and sergeant-major. 
One by one the companies formed from centre 
to flank, and then the captains brought them 
to “ parade rest.” To the stirring notes of the 
“ High School Cadets,” the band, led by its 


A PLEBE 


170 

tall drum-major, marched in front of the bat- 
talion from flank to flank, and then halted in 
position on the right of the line. The fife 
and drum corps sounded the “ retreat ” and 
as the last notes died away, the “ retreat gun ” 
boomed out a shot across “ Execution Hollow.” 
The official day was over. 

The green-walled hills of the Highlands 
were still mirthfully tossing the blast from 
peak to peak, when Cadet Adjutant Starring’s 
voice rose clear and sharp on the right flank, 
“ Battalion, attention ! ” 

Motionless as statuary the corps stood, and 
the spectators rose with reverently bared heads 
as the band played the “ Star Spangled Ban- 
ner,” and “ Old Glory ” sank from the flag- 
staff through the green foliage into the arms 
of the sergeant of the guard. 

Ranks were opened, and then the adjutant, 
his tall plume quivering in the breeze, marched 
to the front and centre, presented arms to 
Captain McAuley, the officer in charge, and 
took his post three paces to his left and rear. 

A few moments’ exercise in the manual of 
arms followed, first sergeants reported, the 
cadet officers marched to the front, and then 


AT WEST POINT 


171 

the companies swung into column and passed 
in review. 

Every company front was straight as a 
ruler’s edge as it passed, and Douglas felt 
his heart swell to the glorious clamor of 
martial music, and all the soldier instinct 
rise buoyant within him as the officer in 
charge, the line of cadet officers, and the 
spectators stood with hats held across their 
hearts as the “ color company ” passed. Na- 
tional and cadet colors they were, the latter 
the glorious black and gold and gray ; the 
one carried by Stockley, the big tackle on the 
football team and acting color-sergeant of the 
battalion ; the other, by the sedate and shapely 
Fullerton, a distinguished “bust” of the first 
class, whom every one regretted to see only an 
acting-sergeant. 

As rear rank file to Bobbie MacGregor, 
Douglas could see but little of the work of 
the plebes until the column turned to the 
left and A Company passed across his line of 
vision, and then he saw big Zeke Shanks bob- 
bing up and down like a cork in a storm. 
Completely out of step to the music, Zeke 
looked like a man struggling through a line 


172 


A PLEBE 


of barbed wire entanglements as he frantically 
changed step again and again in a vain effort 
to make his feet move in harmony with the 
music. 

“ If they would just let one man play at a 
time, sir,” said Zeke, when his company com- 
mander took him severely to task in the com- 
pany street, “ or if they'd let that big fellow 
slam the drum without all the other rattling 
and tooting, I think that I could keep in step, 
but when they all play different, my feet get 
mixed up and I don’t know which one to put 
down.” 

“ Poor Mr. Shanks ! His feet are mixed 
assignments, sure enough,” said Bobbie Mac- 
Gregor, sympathetically, “but I’ve arranged 
a soiree in D Company for him to-night at 
which five recognized experts will try to sort 
him out.” 

Parade was not the only event of impor- 
tance on this hot July afternoon, for the first 
plebe detail was to go on guard. The plebes 
for this duty are selected according to pro- 
ficiency, and it was a well-known fact that 
this first detail for guard included many of the 
corporals who would step out of the rear rank 


AT WEST POINT 


*73 


on June 12th next to take the places left 
vacant by the promotion of Swayne, Mallory, 
Kendrick and others of their rank. Some 
indeed among them must fall by the wayside 
under the new and trying conditions to come, 
but selection for this duty was a striking rec- 
ognition of present military merit, and every 
plebe in the class envied the lucky fellows 
who had won the choice. 

As the company was dismissed in the com- 
pany street on its return from parade, the 
guard detail fell out, and followed by the eyes 
of their classmates, Cadets Atwell and Jack- 
son assembled with Cadet Corporal Swayne, 
Bobbie MacGregor and three other yearling 
privates to march on guard, while the other 
members of the company returned to their 
tents to strip off their full-dress and don their 
blouses for supper formation. The first class 
privates were happy, for henceforth they would 
perform no more sentry duty and would be 
used as cadet officers only until graduation on 
the 12th of June would entitle them to the 
shoulder straps of second lieutenants in the 
army. 

McLane rapidly inspected his detail, the 


i74 


A PLEBE 


adjutant and sergeant-major took posts, and to 
the music of a lively march the guard formed 
upon the parade. The visitors’ seats were still 
crowded with spectators, mostly young ladies 
in white, fluffy gowns, while among them 
shone the tine full-dress coats and glistening 
bell-buttons of upper classmen who had 
snatched this opportunity of spending with 
their friends the few remaining moments be- 
fore supper formation. Here and there a dash 
of color was added to the scene by the pres- 
ence of officers of the various branches of the 
service with their stripes of red, yellow and 
white. 

Attractive as was the scene, it attracted 
Douglas not a bit, for with eyes straight to the 
front, head erect and chin drawn in under the 
heartless urgency of the corporals in the file 
closers, he was striving to foresee the difficul- 
ties of his tour of guard. The adjutant and 
the cadet officers of the guard inspected the 
ranks and sharply corrected the plebes for 
every error of dress or manual, and among 
them all Douglas was the only one to escape 
correction. Then with the new and the old 
officers of the day standing with arms folded 


AT WEST POINT 


J 75 


like statues, the guard swung into column of 
platoons and marched in review. The band 
turned out of column and the guard continued 
to the rattling music of the fife and drum 
corps, crossed No. 1 and passed in front of the 
old guard as it stood at “ present/ 7 and then 
came to a halt on the right flank. 

Having exchanged the necessary salutes, the 
new guard was divided into three reliefs and 
fixed bayonets, and all was ready for “ the 
most important and honorable duty the sol- 
dier is called upon to perform.” 

“ Fall in, first relief,” commanded Swayne, 
“ call off.” 

Then with two anxious plebes in ranks the 
relief marched away to take posts, pick up the 
members of the old guard and bring them 
back to the guard-house. Douglas was not 
among them, for it had fallen to his lot to be- 
long to the third relief, so that he would not 
go on post until ten o’clock, to be relieved at 
midnight. 

“ You are in for it, Mr. Atwell,” said Bobbie 
MacGregor as the guard came to “ rest ” to 
await Swayne’s return with the relief of the 
old guard. “ You will be on No. 3 to-night, 


A PLEBE 


176 

immediately after taps. That’s your post over 
there along the ditch of Fort Clinton, and 
along about fifteen minutes after taps some- 
thing’s going to drop into that ditch. Can 
you guess what it will be ? ” 

“ No, sir,” said Douglas flushing as he felt 
his indignation rising at the insinuation. 

“ Well, just try. It’s so easy. Almost any 
one could guess that.” 

“ I can’t, sir,” said Douglas grimly as he set 
his teeth together. 

“So?” said MacGregor raising his brows 
and pursing his lips. “ Well, when it hits the 
bottom of the ditch to-night just remember 
that I told you something was going to drop.” 

Swayne appeared with his relief as he 
crossed No. 1, the lines came to attention, the 
old guard marched away to camp after twenty- 
four hours of duty, and the new guard broke 
ranks with orders to prepare for supper. 

“ That plebe talks as if he really thought 
he was not going into the ditch to-night,” said 
one of the yearlings as he placed his rifle in 
the gun-racks and turned toward camp to 
change uniform. 

“ He talks that way because he thinks that 


AT WEST POINT 


1 77 

way,” said MacGregor, “ and maybe it will be 
that way.” 

“ Great guns, man, don’t you think the 
yearlings can put him in the ditch if they 
want to ? ” 

“ Maybe so and again maybe not,” chuckled 
Bobbie. “ That’s a pig-headed boy — Mr. At- 
well, and he may take a notion to fight. I’m 
glad Bobbie MacGregor’s detail to-night de- 
mands his presence at the guard-house on offi- 
cial duty, sir, and does not permit him to lead 
the forlorn hope that proposes putting that 
plebe in the ditch.” 

Bobbie MacGregor loved a scrimmage, and 
when times were dull and duties monotonous, 
nothing pleased him more than to whet the 
appetite of both sides to a controversy. 

Meanwhile Douglas and the other members 
of the third relief returned to the guard tent 
in blouses and forage caps, the drums sounded 
the assembly for supper, and the battalion 
marched off to Grant Hall followed by this 
detachment of the guard. The last of the 
spectators, three girls in charming white 
gowns, stood with entwined arms and rapt 
faces and watched the big battalion until it 


A PLEBE 


178 

disappeared across the plain, but for the poor 
plebes in the rear rank they had neither a 
thought nor a look. Except for the friends 
or relatives who might visit them, the plebes 
were expected to participate in no way in the 
social privileges of the upper classes. 

Immediately after supper Douglas went to 
camp to secure his blanket and pillow and lay 
aside his collar and cuffs which the authori- 
ties graciously dispensed with as part of the 
uniform for cadets while walking posts at 
night. 

“ I heard some of the yearlings talking 
about dumping you into the ditch to-night, 
Douglas,” said Roderick in a low tone. “ How 
about it? ” 

“ Maybe they can do it, Rory. We’ll know 
in the morning,” and Douglas hurried away 
to the guard tent, tossed his blanket and pil- 
low on the bare floor, and stretched out to 
secure some sleep, if possible, before going on 
post. No article of clothing could be removed 
throughout the twenty-four hours of guard 
duty, nor even a belt unbuckled, except when 
a relief would be ordered into camp to make 
a change of uniform, and the resulting dis- 


AT WEST POINT 


l 79 


comforts, assisted by the mosquitoes, made 
sleep impossible. At ten o’clock our young 
friend stood in ranks already tired out with 
the long drills of the day, with parade and 
guard mounting, and with the anxiety of a 
coming ordeal, but he took his place resolved 
to obey his legal orders and to enforce obedi- 
ence to the sentinel’s authority to the full ex- 
tent of his ability. 

All was quiet and orderly as usual in camp 
when the relief marched along the gravel 
path, and he advanced to relieve big Karl 
Krumms, the plebe on No. 3. 

“Posts! Forward, march!” said the cor- 
poral as Douglas received his orders, and then 
stood at attention as the relief faded away 
among the shadows toward No. 4, where 
Jackson was to take his post. 

“ This place is hard and unsympathetic, but 
it is certainly fair and square,” mused Douglas 
as his eyes followed the relief. “ In spite of 
the bitter feelings against Jackson he has been 
treated with the utmost impartiality.” 

The general impartiality accorded cadets ex- 
tended to the subject of hazing as well, for 
every plebe who walked No. 3, irrespective of 


i8o 


A PLEBE 


size or reputation, was equally liable to be 
tossed into the ditch if the yearlings wished 
to have some fun*, and in view of Bobbie Mac- 
Gregor’s hints Douglas began to take measure of 
his surroundings. Along one side of his post 
ran the A Company tents, about fifteen paces 
distant ; along the other, the deep ditch of 
Fort Clinton, constructed by the Revolution- 
ary soldiers in the defense of the Highlands. 
Immense trees lined a portion of the post and 
threw their shadows across his path, thus 
affording an excellent opportunity for a 
stealthy approach. Not a sound, however, dis- 
turbed the serene quiet of the night. In the 
half light of the moon he could see Jackson 
moving cautiously along No. 4, the post ad- 
joining his, and reassured by the peaceful 
aspect of affairs, his mind ran unconsciously 
back over the affairs which were stirring the 
class and agitating the corps. 

The challenge of the yearling class for a 
fight to a finish had been accepted by Jackson 
— there was no alternative, and Frank Hadley, 
the best man for his weight in the class, had 
been turned out to meet him. Storms and 
Smoke were to be his seconds. For one rea- 


AT WEST POINT 181 

son or another Jackson had secured several 
postponements of the fight and now the year- 
lings had set a date beyond which there could 
be no delay — the fight must come off within 
forty-eight hours. 

Jackson had made capital of the affair, and 
by using his tent-mates, Storms and Smoke, 
as his bosom confidants, had managed to dis- 
seminate insinuations that Douglas had not 
treated him fairly before the cadet court of 
honor, had attempted to betray the class, in 
fact, while he himself had sustained the honor 
of his comrades by bringing about the fight 
which had really been forced upon him. 
Thus he had managed to become somewhat of 
a hero among a small portion of the plebe 
class, whereas Douglas had gradually become 
conscious of an indefinable atmosphere of 
coldness and distrust. He was utterly at a 
loss to account for this attitude of his com- 
rades, but occasionally as he strove to find a 
reason for it, his mind traveled back to the 
day when Jackson attempted to establish 
Roderick O’Connor as a witness to the time 
when he returned from the examination room 
and found Jackson’s dress-suit case open upon 


182 


A PLEBE 


the bed and the room in disorder ; again to 
the night when he stood on the outside of his 
room, saw the flicker of a light within, and 
upon entering, found a half-burned match be- 
side his traveling-bag, one strap of which was 
unbuckled. No reason for these strange oc- 
currences seemed as yet apparent, yet instinc- 
tively Douglas felt that a relation existed be- 
tween them and the inexplainable attitude of 
some of his classmates. All other explana- 
tions seemed to fail, for though he had refused 
to discuss or explain his conduct before the 
court of honor yet he felt that the attitude of 
the upper classes would completely justify 
him before his comrades. On the whole he 
had been sustained and in some quarters 
highly commended, but yet among the turbu- 
lent element of the yearling class he was re- 
garded with dislike and marked for punish- 
ment. 

By this small coterie of disgruntled year- 
lings he had been treated with great severity, 
his spirit had been sorely tried, and his tem- 
per had been strained almost to the breaking 
point, yet he submitted without complaint to 
every form of annoyance whose general effect 


AT WEST POINT 183 

was good. But to-night he was confronted 
with a form of hazing to which he felt he 
could not and would not submit — for the 
yearlings proposed to carry their hazing into 
his official duties as a sentinel. 

He set his teeth and gripped the stock of 
his rifle. Lying in the presence of a savage 
enemy, his hand upon his cartridge belt, he 
had guarded his post and his camp at the risk 
of his life in the Philippines, and the ideas 
gleaned from these thrilling experiences, to- 
gether with all the rest of his education in the 
ranks, had taught him that the duties of a 
sentinel are above caricature. 

With these thoughts in his mind, Douglas 
was slowly pacing his post when he felt the 
gentle brush of something across his ankle, 
and halted with a start. Not a sound had 
been heard, not a person had been seen stir- 
ring, but along the outer edge of the Fort 
Clinton ditch he thought he could see a dark 
object slowly creeping. The goose quills 
stood up on his flesh and he felt little chills 
race down his spine as he dropped down his 
rifle to the port and cried, “ Halt ! Who’s 
there?” 


A PLEBE 


1 84 

No answer came, but suddenly he felt his 
feet snapped violently out from beneath him, 
apparently by the quick motion of a rope, and 
he regained his balance only with great diffi- 
culty as he saw three figures armed with pil- 
lows springing toward him. Douglas Atwell 
was instantly transformed from an humble 
plebe at West Point, to a trained soldier on 
post. Down came his rifle to the “ charge 
bayonets,” and quick as lightning he shot 
forward the butt into a descending pillow. 
The iron-shod weapon, cushioned by the pil- 
low, was driven with terrific force into the 
face of the oncoming yearling, who rolled 
limp and helpless across the post. Springing 
back, Douglas stopped the next man on the 
point of his bayonet, and turned his voice to- 
ward the guard-tent with the cry, “ The 
Guard, No. 3.” 

“ Hold on, boys, hold on,” said the third 
yearling, as he dropped his pillow and stooped 
over the body of his fallen classmate. “ You’ve 
done it, plebe. Hadley’s knocked out, and 
that fight with Mr. Jackson will have to be 
put off.” 


CHAPTER IX 


IN WHICH DOUGLAS IS CALLED OUT TO FIGHT 

“ It is my opinion that we’ve got to turn 
out Mr. Atwell and lick him, and I think 
Hadley’s the boy who can do the job. He’s 
the aggrieved party and is just crazy to teach 
that plebe a much needed lesson.” 

It was big Jack Thorpe who spoke at a 
meeting of his class called at his request the 
evening following the attempt to throw 
Douglas into the Fort Clinton ditch. The 
awkward silence which followed, however, 
indicated that his words did not carry com- 
plete conviction to the majority of the year- 
ling class, for Thorpe’s propensity to stir up 
trouble had already won the disfavor of the 
conservative element. 

“ I somewhat regret that Mr. Atwell must 
be licked,” continued the yearling a bit 
abashed, “ because he’s a plucky plebe. 
Every one regretted that Major Andre had to 
be shot, but certain offenses demand punish- 
es 


1 86 


A PLEBE 


ment and this, in my opinion, is one of them. 
Mr. Atwell does not attempt to apologize or 
to excuse himself for knocking Hadley down 
last night, and says he proposes to defend 
his post with the bayonet if necessary. That 
is commendable in the face of actual danger, 
but it’s a fighting offense when done as an ex- 
pression of contempt for an upper class- 
man.” 

“ Has any one else anything to say on this 
subject?” asked Stanley, the popular presi- 
dent of the class, and as no one responded he 
added, “ Where is Hadley ? ” 

“ Absent,” said Thorpe. “ He fully en- 
dorses all I say and wants to fight the plebe.” 

“ If no one will speak,” continued Stanley, 
“ I will state my personal feelings and then 
hear any dissenting voice. I think the class 
can take no action at all against Mr. Atwell 
for what he did on post. It would be a farce 
indeed if we sent a man on post to do a duty 
and then licked him for doing it. That is 
contrary to the spirit of fairness which should 
characterize all class action. Men trifle with 
sentinels at their peril, and if they get the 
butt end of a rifle from a plebe who isn’t 


AT WEST POINT 187 

afraid to do his manifest duty, they’d better 
grin and bear it. 

“ Moreover,” continued Stanley with in- 
creasing earnestness, “ we have had two fights 
already, and another is still on our hands— 
that with Mr. Jackson. We all know that 
these fights and the excessive hazing that has 
characterized this camp are all due to Mr. 
Jackson’s conduct in the gymnasium affair. 
I fully realize the righteous indignation of 
the class over that episode, the disappointment 
that was felt over Mr. Jackson’s escape from 
well-merited punishment, but every one must 
realize that it is neither just nor manly to 
visit Mr. Jackson’s sins on the rest of his 
class. I have heard of cases of hazing of 
which I think the yearlings as a body cannot 
approve, and if these things continue we will 
call down the strongest condemnation of the 
superintendent and will ruin the reputation 
of the class. Let us finish up the fight with 
Mr. Jackson in good style — there is not much 
doubt that he will get a sound thrashing, and 
then let us avoid trouble for the future.” 

Never had Stanley spoken so long or so 
earnestly. Ordinarily he despatched the busi- 


1 88 


A PLEBE 


ness of the class in the most hasty and per- 
functory manner, but things were now running 
crosswise, and the reckless propensities of 
some of his classmates demanded a word of 
caution. All were impressed with the seri- 
ousness and earnestness of his address, and 
without e^en the suggestion of a vote on 
Thorpe’s proposition, the class broke up and 
turned to their tents. 

“ It is all right for Stanley to talk,” growled 
Thorpe angrily as he walked away with 
Madden, his chum in mischief-making. “ We 
all know he’s ‘ boning boot-lick ’ 1 on the Sup. 
and letting the interest of the corps go to 
smash for the sake of his chevrons. But 
I’m tied to no one’s apron strings, and I tell 
you right now that the plebes have got to be 
disciplined according to Hoyle, or my name’s 
not Jack Thorpe.” 

Then the exasperated yearling walked 
down the line of plebe tents and ordered a 
half dozen offenders against his code to re- 
port over in D Company and await his 
arrival. Stanley had talked in vain. 

'Boning boot-lick: A cadet expression meaning “currying 
favor. ’ ’ 


AT WEST POINT 189 

In the meantime Douglas was in his 
tent in earnest conversation with Roderick 
O’Connor. After a sleepless night on guard 
he had marched off duty about 6 p. m. and 
would not be called upon for work of any 
kind until one o’clock the next day. 

The whole plebe class was agog over his 
affair with Hadley, and while some con- 
demned his act as a bit of reckless temper, 
the majority applauded, and all thought that 
it meant a fight. 

“ You’re a brick, Douglas,” said Roderick ; 
“ you went through him like a wildcat, and 
if they call you out, remember that I’m your 
second and will stand by you while you 
thrash him good and proper.” 

“ I hope they won’t call me out, Rory,” 
said Douglas. “ I don’t want to be forced into a 
fight for a thing of that sort, and I doubt if 
I should fight at all. They all think I took 
advantage of my position to strike an upper 
classman, I suppose, but as a matter of fact I 
did the only proper thing for a sentinel on 
post. The case would go hard with the 
hazers if it ever came to an investigation, but 
as soon as I called for the guard the yearlings 


i go 


A PLEBE 


picked up their man and carried him off to a 
tent. He was only stunned a bit, and my 
post was as quiet as the grave when the guard 
arrived, so nothing will be heard of the affair 
officially. Of course I could not identify any 
of the men, but merely heard Mr. Hadley’s 
name mentioned. I don’t want to stir up 
trouble, and hope they will leave me alone. 
At any rate I’m going to bed, as I haven’t 
slept for twenty-four hours.” 

Douglas crept into his blankets on the 
hard tent-floor, but even this stoic’s bed felt 
soft and luxurious to his weary limbs. His 
equipment was tarnished and black from ex- 
posure, and his rifle would require several 
hours of hard work to make it fit for inspec- 
tion at the next parade, but these things must 
be forgotten for the time. 

Out on the posts around camp the second 
detachment of plebes walked their weary 
beats and anxiously thought of the ordeal 
that they might enjoy “ on account of At- 
well’s B.J. ety.” 

It was a Wednesday night, and a band 
concert was in progress on the lawn in front 
of the guard tent. A wreath of electric 


AT WEST POINT 


191 

lights hung above the musicians, and dimly 
lit up the camp stools and visitors’ seats 
where numbers of upper classmen and their 
young lady friends whiled away the happy 
hours after a hard day’s work. The merry 
laughter of the young people floated across 
the parade to the tents where many a plebe, 
the petted idol of a rich and luxurious home, 
realized for the first time in his life that a 
social gathering could be complete without 
his presence. 

The situation brought no regrets to 
Douglas, however, and soothed by the soft 
strains of the music, he drifted rapidly off 
into the land of dreams, while Roderick 
O’Connor scrubbed away industriously at his 
tarnished breast-plates, and Jacques sat upon 
his cleaning box with his long legs curled up 
beneath him and laboriously wrote a letter on 
the top of his locker. 

It seemed but a half hour to Douglas when 
the roar of the reveille gun next morning 
startled him from his slumbers, and he 
hurried into ranks for the first roll-call of a 
new day. 

After breakfast, he, being a member of the 


192 


A PLEBE 


old guard, was required to attend no drills 
and was permitted to make down his bed and 
sleep, and so at eleven o’clock he awoke and 
went to the swimming tank for a refreshing 
bath and shower, and was then ready and 
fresh for the drills of the afternoon. 

Instruction in target practice from 2 to 
4 p. m., and full-dress parade at five o’clock 
were the only formations of the day. These 
passed off without notable incident and night 
once more found the whole plebe class in a 
state of eager expectancy. 

Jackson was to go out the next morning 
against young Marston, who had been chosen 
in Hadley’s place on account of the injuries 
the latter had received during his “ interview 
with Atwell.” Moreover it was well known 
that the yearling class had had a meeting at 
which there was much talk of “ licking that 
plebe,” but no fourth-classman as yet knew 
the conclusion that had been arrived at by the 
yearlings, or the stinging rebuke that Thorpe 
and his friends had received. Fully aware 
of the serious possibilities of the situation, 
however, and determined to yield no craven 
submission to what seemed manifest injustice, 


AT WEST POINT 


*93 


Douglas resolved to secure the opinion of one 
of the best minds in the first class as to what 
course he should pursue. 

The occasion was opportune, moreover, for 
a hop was to be given that night at Cullom 
Hall, and Douglas had been asked to make 
out the hop-cards for Winslow and Littlefield. 
As in the Philippines, his unique ability as a 
penman and artist had attracted the attention 
of his superiors, and already his dexterous pen 
had sketched a charming little scene on the 
back of Winslow’s card, a souvenir which a 
lovely girl now cherished as an expression of 
the cadet captain’s feelings toward her. 

And now at 7:15 p. m. the real author of 
the young lady’s happiness stood tapping at 
Winslow’s tent-flap to comply with the re- 
quest to make out the cards for this even- 
ing. 

“Come in, Mr. Atwell,” said Winslow, as 
he paused over his shaving brush, “ take a 
seat at my table and help yourself to candles. 
Your sketch on the last card created a great 
sensation. Can you suggest anything for 
this one ? ” 

“ As it seems to be the same young lady,” 


194 A PLEBE 

said Douglas, “ I might sketch a sequel to the 
first scene.” 

“ Steady, Mr. Atwell, steady, sir / 7 said 
Winslow with ill-concealed mirth. “ Make it 
non-committal, non-committal, and strictly 
impersonal, if you please, Mr. Atwell.” 

And then as Winslow and Littlefield rapidly 
dressed for the hop, Douglas worked away at 
the hop-cards and with light masterful strokes 
sketched a copy of Gibson’s famous picture — 

“ The greatest game in the world. His move.” 
The civilian in the original scene was re- 
placed, however, by a West Point cadet whose I 
face bore a striking resemblance to that of the 
handsome Winslow. 

“ Great Scott ! ” gasped the latter as he 
looked at the card. “ If that is your idea of 
the non-committal and strictly impersonal I 
would like to see your outline of a true sequel. 
Well, just sign your name to indicate your re- 
sponsibility, and I will make you acquainted 
with the girl next June.” 

Littlefield, deeply amused and interested, 
was pulling on his dress-coat when a messen- 
ger boy rapped at the tent-pole and handed 
him a telegram. He tore it open and turned 


AT WEST POINT 


*95 


to his classmate with an exclamation of disap- 
pointment. “The femme 1 I was to drag 2 
isn’t coming,” said he. “ Never mind the 
rest of the card, Mr. Atwell, I’m not going to 
the hop. Tell the fellows, will you, Winslow, 
that I am falling out on all dances,” and Lit- 
tlefield gloomily tossed his dress-coat on the 
bed. 

Douglas’ heart leaped as he realized that he 
would be left alone with Littlefield and would 
thus secure the opportunity to say the words 
that had been burning for utterance. With a 
few words of condolence Winslow slipped the 
string of his hop-card over a bell button and 
stepped out into the company street, and as 
Douglas raised his eyes from the unfinished 
list of dances and followed the figure of the 
dapper young cadet officer, he saw three men 
approach his tent and heard them ask for 
“ Mr. Atwell.” One was Thorpe, and as 
nearly as he could make out in the darkness 
another was Hadley, while the third appeared 
to be Madden, and Douglas could scarcely 
doubt the object of their visit. 

1 Femme : A girl. 

2 Drag : To take to a hop. 


196 


A PLEBE 


“ Mr. Littlefield/’ said he, as he rose and 
stood at attention, “ I would like to speak to 
you on a private matter. I would like to 
ask your advice, sir.” 

“ Certainly, Mr. Atwell,” said Littlefield 
with perfect ease and affability, “ sit down and 
go ahead.” 

Douglas resumed his seat, his confidence 
rising under the influence of the genial cadet 
officer’s manner and voice, for Littlefield was 
an adept at the art of placing a subordinate 
on a plane of equality without permitting the 
slightest appearance of familiarity. 

“ I understand, sir,” said Douglas, “ that 
the third class has held a meeting at which 
there was a great deal of talk of calling me 
out for a fight for resisting the hazing of some 
of their members while I was a sentinel on 
post. I am not sure that the class is to take 
the matter up, but if they don’t it may become 
a personal matter. Now I am not long 
enough in the corps to decide on the merits 
of the case, and I would like to know whether 
I should acknowledge my error and take my 
punishment, or resist any attempt to hold me 
responsible.” 


AT WEST POINT 


197 

“ Tell me exactly what happened on your 
post, Mr. Atwell,” said Littlefield. “ I have 
heard something of the occurrence, but no 
particulars.” 

Douglas then briefly related the affair which 
resulted in Hadley’s being knocked senseless 
upon his post by a blow from the butt of his 
rifle, and emphasized the fact that though he 
struck out almost by impulse, he nevertheless 
struck with the determination of resisting at- 
tack. 

“ You were perfectly right, Mr. Atwell,” 
said Littlefield as Douglas finished his narra- 
tive. “ A soldier in the service, as you know, 
would be punished for failing to resist assault, 
and the men who hazed you, if they ever be- 
come officers, would punish a man who failed 
to defend his post to the last extremity. I 
don’t think the yearlings will call you out, 
but if they do, you may rest assured that the 
first class will take the matter up and prevent 
a fight.” 

“ I have no desire to shirk a fight, sir,” said 
Douglas flushing. “ I merely wanted to know 
if it is right for me to resist any hazing on 
account of what I did.” 


A PLEBE 


198 

Littlefield hesitated. “ Have you been 
hazed much, Mr. Atwell ? ” 

“ Quite a bit, sir.” 

“ Do you think it was on account of your 
refusal to give testimony against Mr. Jack- 
son ? ” > 

“ I think part of it was, sir. The third 
classmen were very angry, but I submitted 
without remonstrance because I thought they 
had some color of reason for hazing me, but 
in the case now in question I don’t think I 
should submit. I will do so, however, if it is 
in line with the spirit of the corps.” 

“ It is not, Mr. Atwell. The men who are 
hazing you are violating the best traditions of 
the academy — a man should never be molested 
on account of his conscientious scruples. 
Hazing at the military academy can be toler- 
ated only because it has always had the com- 
mendable object of training the plebes both 
mentally and morally. Many young men 
come here with utterly false notions of their 
abilities and their relations to the military 
profession. In their conceit they imagine 
that their social or financial position will pur- 
chase for them the same immunities that they 


AT WEST POINT 


199 


enjoyed at home. They must be taught the 
folly of their way in no uncertain manner. 
The son of the President or of the most dis- 
tinguished general in the service, and the son 
of a day laborer, must learn to recognize their 
absolute social equality, and to submit to a 
system based solely upon merit. 

“ The social ostracism of the plebes, the 
mistering and the sirring, the corrective disci- 
pline of the upper classes, the private investi- 
gation of shirking, quibbling, petty falsehood, 
or other dishonorable acts and the infliction 
of our own penalties therefor, are all parts of 
a system of so-called hazing that has assisted 
in building up the code of honor of the West 
Point cadets and in establishing the standards 
of integrity for the United States Army. 

“ Hazing here,’’ continued Littlefield en- 
thusiastically, “ is unlike hazing at any col- 
lege in the world. Collegians haze for mere 
amusement ; cadets do it as a rule from a 
strong conviction that it is necessary in the 
peculiar education of a man who must yield 
unhesitating obedience even to the sacrifice of 
his life. These very men who are hazing you 
believe that they are doing it for the best in- 


200 


A PLEBE 


terests of the academy ; but they are wrong. 
It will do you no harm to submit, but 
you are neither required nor urged to 
do so.” 

Littlefield leaned back in his chair, his face 
radiant with the earnestness that he felt, and 
Douglas, as he watched the gallant young 
cadet officer, resolved to stand for the exalted 
principles he represented and to resist the de- 
structive influence of Thorpe and his associ- 
ates, no matter what the cost. 

“ I thank you very much indeed, Mr. Lit- 
tlefield,” said Douglas as he rose and prepared 
to leaye. “ I think I am now able to see my 
way.” 

“ Should you feel uncertain at any time I 
will be glad to give you my opinion, but if 
you are always absolutely honorable you will 
find the whole corps ready to support you.” 
And then Littlefield lowered his voice and 
looked the plebe over searchingly from head 
to foot. “ You have made some enemies in 
the upper classes, Mr. Atwell, but they are 
easily dealt with. I don’t wish to interfere in 
your personal affairs, but I would suggest, 
from certain things that happened in barracks, 


AT WEST POINT 


201 


that some members of your own class need 
close observation.” 

Douglas started, but could say nothing more 
than “ Thank you, sir.” In the exciting events 
of the last few days he had forgotten his old- 
time enemy, but this flash from the darkness 
suggested the necessity for active vigilance. 

As Douglas reached his tent he saw three 
cadets standing on the opposite side of the 
street, and by their manner he knew that 
they awaited his arrival. 

“ Where have you been dead-beating all 
night, Mr. Atwell?” growled one of them, 
and Douglas at once recognized the voice of 
Thorpe, whose ugly hazing and offensive man- 
ner had already driven him to the verge of 
open revolt. 

“ I have not been dead-beating, sir,” said 
Douglas with an effort to control his temper. 

“ Well, you haven’t been in your tent, which 
is the same thing in effect, so step out now 
and report over in D Company, where a soiree 
has been awaiting your distinguished presence 
for half an hour.” 

“ Very well, sir,” said Douglas as he pre- 
pared to obey, and once more he would have 


202 


A PLEBE 


submitted to the bulldozing of a misguided 
yearling had it not been for Thorpe’s fatal 
addition to his original order. “ Before we 
get through with you to-night,” said he, sav- 
agely, “ you’ll know better than to take ad- 
vantage of yoUr position as a sentinel to knock 
down an upper classman.” 

Douglas halted in his tracks and tossed 
his hat back upon the bedding. 

“ Excuse me,” said he, “ I decline to be 
hazed on that ground.” 

“You do?” shouted Thorpe, as he sprang 
into the tent and faced Douglas with clenched 
fist. “ Then, mister, you’ll fight, and don’t 
you forget it.” 

“ With the greatest pleasure, sir,” said 
Douglas. “ When will you be ready ? ” 

“ To-morrow morning before reveille.” 

“ Very well, sir, the sooner the better.” 


CHAPTER X 


IN WHICH THE PLEBE WINS 

The smothered rattle of an alarm clock 
beneath his pillow awakened Douglas Atwell 
at 3:30 a. m., and seizing the buzzing instru- 
ment, he shut off the noise and sat up on the 
tent-floor. A cold mist was dripping from 
the trees, writhing through the company- 
streets, and creeping over the sleeping figures. 
The first chill gray of the morning was break- 
ing in the east, and Douglas shivered as he 
felt the uncanny touch of the breeze upon his 
dew-stained face. 

He must get up and fight — with whom he 
did not know, but he knew that it would not 
be Thorpe, for the latter outweighed him by 
thirty pounds, and the upper classes would 
permit no such disparity in weights between 
the contestants. Under the unwritten code 
of the corps, it was the duty of the yearlings 
to turn out a man of nearly his own weight, 
but this did not prevent the selection of the 
203 


204 


A PLEBE 


best man within these limits that the class 
could produce, and Douglas knew that he 
would be pitted against one whom Thorpe 
considered his master. 

It will be remembered that the yearlings, as 
a class, had declined to have anything to do 
with this case, but Thorpe had forced a fight 
upon them by making it a personal matter 
with Douglas, and so, while Hadley stood 
ready and eager to fight, the class could not 
well interfere to prevent him. 

“ Wake up, Rory,” whispered Douglas, as 
he shook his sleeping tent-mate, and the latter 
opened his weary eyes and sat up with a start. 
His face was scarcely visible in the gloom, 
but Douglas could feel him shiver in the chill 
morning air, and his heart sank within him. 
In an hour he might lie in his tent, battered 
and beaten to unconsciousness, and why? 
Primarily because he had done his duty like 
a true soldier, and had thus won the dis- 
pleasure of a man who had violated every 
moral standard of the academy, and it was 
hard indeed to suffer further ignominy at 
his hands. There was some gratification to 
Douglas, however, in knowing that he pos- 


AT WEST POINT 


205 


sessed the support and esteem of such men as 
Littlefield and Winslow, that a single word to 
them would stop the fight, and that whatever 
might be the outcome of the encounter he 
would still enjoy their goodwill if he be- 
haved with manliness and courage. 

This he would strive with all his might to 
do, and he hoped to rise equal to the ordeal 
which had already proved too much for two 
of his classmates. 

The preparations for the fight must be con- 
ducted with the utmost caution, for should 
the tactical officers learn of the affair, the 
principals and all concerned would be placed 
in arrest and severely punished. The sound 
of a cautious footstep in the company street, 
therefore, brought our two young friends to 
an anxious halt in their work, and they 
clenched their teeth to suppress the chatter- 
ing and waited with bated breath for develop- 
ments. Nothing was destined to prevent this 
fight, however, for the sound of the footsteps 
ceased in front of Jackson’s tent, and Douglas 
heard an upper classman awakening him, and 
remembered, with a start, that he, too, was to 
go out for his fight. 


206 


A PLEBE 


“ Within two hours/’ thought Douglas, 
“ the whole corps will know which of us can 
better stand this test of courage,” and he set 
his teeth together and tugged fiercely at his 
damp cjothing. A moment later, big Karl 
Krumms stepped into the tent. He carried 
in one hand a bucket containing a sponge and 
half filled with water, and underneath his 
arm a roll of towels from which the strong 
odor of restoratives came to the nostrils of his 
principal — for Karl was to officiate as second 
and adviser. 

“ It’s Hadley you are going to fight, 
Douglas,” said Karl excitedly. “ Thorpe is 
getting him into shape now. He told me to 
say that we go out in five minutes if you are 
ready.” 

“ I’m ready at any moment,” said Douglas 
quietly, and the group took seats upon the 
locker to watch for the approach of the 
yearlings. 

In the adjacent tent, Jackson, Storms and 
Smoke were similarly awaiting the summons 
to the field, while, lying at Douglas’ feet, 
Jacques was soundly sleeping, a man of 
peace, unconscious of the preparations for the 


AT WEST POINT 


20 7 

battle in which his more warlike tent-mate 
was about to engage. 

“ Here they come,” whispered Roderick as 
he glanced beneath the tent-wall. “ Your 
hand, Douglas, old boy, and dollars to dough- 
nuts you’ll lick Hadley in three rounds. 
Class pride is all that is carrying him into the 
fight. His heart is not in it, and he’s no 
match for you at his best. I saw you in that 
little try-out in football practice while we 
were in beast barracks, and again I saw you 
walk through Jackson, and I know what I 
am talking about. Hadley’s licked before 
you enter the ring.” 

With these encouraging words ringing in 
his ears and Rory’s hand resting caressingly 
upon his shoulder, Douglas stepped out of his 
tent with his seconds. But nothing could 
dispel the feeling of depression akin to despair 
which attacks the human being in the presence 
of great bodily danger to be faced in the early 
hours of morning. 

To Douglas, it was the old familiar agony 
which always preceded a nigfit attack upon a 
hostile trench. How many times had he felt 
it ! In that furious assault upon the forces of 


2o8 


A PLEBE 


Aguinaldo, how many times had a stealthy 
shake, a low whisper, stirred him from his 
slumbers, and caused him to open his blood- 
shot eyes toward the sky still lighted by the 
pale stars ! How his weary limbs pained, 
how his parched lips burned, how his heart 
ached during these early morning prepara- 
tions for attack ! 

A tin cup of steaming hot coffee, and a bit of 
hardtack and bacon did much to call back the 
soldier’s courage, but for the cadet at West 
Point there was no such comfort. He must 
fight in secret, in violation of regulations, and 
without stimulants or food of any kind. Ut- 
terly “ gone ” in his stomach and shivering 
with cold, Douglas joined the party of yearlings 
as they crept up alongside of Post No. 3, and 
waited for the signal to cross. The fight was 
to take place in Fort Clinton, the scene of 
nearly every fistic encounter that has origi- 
nated in camp since the origin of the academy. 

The yearling sentinel on post was down 
near the ice- water tank where the shadows of 
the overhanging trees enveloped him in almost 
complete darkness. This with the mist made 
it impossible for him to see fifty yards in front, 


AT WEST POINT 


209 


and in a moment all had safely passed across 
his post, and were within the parapet. 

Douglas glanced back as he crossed the post 
and saw Jackson with his seconds, Storms and 
Smoke, moving down toward No. 4, where 
he was to cross and meet his antagonist on 
the road near Kosciusko’s monument. The 
sight of his old-time enemy brought the flush 
to Douglas’s face and reminded him of the 
fact that they were once more competitors for 
the approval of public opinion, and he grimly 
resolved that he would not be found wanting 
in the trial. 

Speedwell and Horton, both members of the 
first class, had been selected as referee and 
timekeeper respectively, by virtue of the cus- 
tom which requires these officials to belong to 
the class which has no interest in the outcome 
of the fight, thus avoiding all possible parti- 
ality. A twenty-four-foot ring was quickly 
marked out upon the ground, and Speedwell, 
the referee, stepped to the centre of the arena. 

“ Take your corners, gentlemen,” said he, 
“ and I will explain the rules which govern 
the fight. This is not a boxing match ; bare 
knuckles will be used, and there will be no 


210 


A PLEBE 


shaking hands as a preliminary. The princi- 
pals may strip to the waist or wear shirts as 
they choose. 

“ The fighting will be by rounds of two 
minutes each, with one minute rest, and will 
be conducted, as far as possible, according to 
the Marquis of Queensbury rules. The sub- 
divisions of the last minute before the begin- 
ning of the first round will be announced, and 
the rounds will begin and terminate at the 
call of ‘ time/ 

“ Now please get ready as soon as possible, 
and if any interruption should occur by offi- 
cers of the post, each man is expected to reach 
camp as best he can/’ 

“ Sentinels ” had already been posted to 
watch all roads leading to Fort Clinton and 
signal the approach of official intruders, and 
the seconds were giving their last eager in- 
structions to the combatants as they stripped 
for the fight. Douglas stood ready in a pair 
of rubber-soled shoes, plebe flannel trousers, 
and a low-cut, sleeveless jersey which em- 
phasized the breadth of his shoulders, and re- 
vealed the magnificent muscles of his chest 
and arms. 


AT WEST POINT 


21 I 


u One minute/’ said Horton, the time- 
keeper, as he toyed with his stop watch. 

“Jump right into him, Douglas,” urged 
Karl Krumms in a low emphatic tone. 
“ Don’t give him a chance to use science if he 
has any.” 

“ Just as you did with Jackson,” added Rod- 
erick. “ Remember that he is out also — you’ve 
got to win, my boy, you’ve got to.” 

“ Thirty seconds,” said the timekeeper. 

Douglas scarcely heard or saw his advisers 
as he fixed his eyes upon his opponent and 
eagerly awaited the passage of the terrible 
seconds. The feeling of languor and depres- 
sion had given place to one of fierce exulta- 
tion similar to that which possessed him when, 
in his first great charge in the Philippines, he 
outstripped all his comrades and leaped upon 
the trench of his enemy in a hand-to-hand 
struggle. 

With the first yellow flush of dawn, the 
mist had disappeared, and a clear, beautiful 
sky was overhead when the timekeeper called 
off “ twenty seconds ; ten seconds ; nine, eight, 
seven, six, five, four, three, two, one — Time.” 

Douglas leaped forward, his clenched fists 


21 2 


A PLEBE 


held low like one preparing for a bayonet 
charge. For one instant he stood still in the 
centre of the ring, then with one tiger-like 
spring he closed upon his antagonist, and the 
astonished spectators saw Frank Hadley, the 
crack boxer of the yearling class, knocked 
about the ring like a novice before a trained 
professional. The two men differed in weight 
by only two pounds, the advantage being in 
Hadley’s favor, but quick though the latter 
was, his motions were sluggish as compared to 
those of the frantic plebe. 

Not an instant’s rest did Douglas allow him. 
Utterly disregarding the blows with which 
Hadley met his rush, he crashed into his op- 
ponent and fought like a madman, while his 
seconds held their breath at the spectacle. 
All Hadley’s science was in vain. Strength 
was pitted against strength, agility against 
agility, and courage against courage, and in 
all these qualities, Douglas Atwell had no su- 
perior in his class. 

“ If he doesn’t get away from those sledge 
hammer blows, Hadley’s licked,” groaned 
Thorpe, as he saw his principal reeling beneath 
the terrific and incessant blows of his adver- 


AT WEST POINT 


213 

sary on whom he could scarcely land at 
all. 

Hadley heard the words, gave ground, and 
raced about the ring in ignominious retreat, 
but Douglas was after him with the quickness 
of a cat, and stood panting and bleeding with 
his adversary at bay in his own corner. A 
single blow would end the fight now, and 
Douglas threw all his strength into his steel- 
like muscles as he swung at his enemy. It 
was the very thing that Hadley had hoped 
for. Down ducked his agile head, and as 
Douglas' arm shot harmlessly above him, he 
rose and struck out with all his strength. 

Rory half shouted with dismay as he saw 
Douglas roll trembling to the earth, but his 
hope rose again as his plucky tent-mate rolled 
over on his face and struggled to rise. 

“ Take the count, take the count, Douglas," 
shouted Karl eagerly, but Douglas was deaf 
to advice. With matchless courage he sprang 
to his feet and was driving Hadley before him 
with blows so fast, so furious that science was 
of no avail, when Horton's call of “ time " 
terminated the round. 

“ Don't try any more sparring, don't let 


214 


A PLEBE 


him get away from you, but rush him furi- 
ously every second/' whispered Karl as he 
kneaded Douglas’ muscles while Rory mopped 
his bleeding face and patted him encourag- 
ingly upon the back. 

The precious minute of rest was all that 
Douglas needed to recuperate from the one 
severe blow which his opponent had landed. 
The cool morning breeze upon his face called 
back the blood to his dizzy brain and drove 
the haze from his eyes, and with clenched 
fists and teeth set he waited like a sprinter 
for the call of “ time ” for the second round. 

In two leaps he crossed the ring, and met 
Hadley in his corner. One lightning, crush- 
ing blow, and the yearling rolled headlong 
between his seconds. With certain defeat 
staring him in the face, the plucky fellow 
rose, however, and met his antagonist with a 
desperate rush, only to sink again before the 
man who was his master. 

Once, twice, three times, Hadley was 
knocked into his corner and out again ; pur- 
sued across the ring and beaten hopelessly at 
every turn, and within one minute after the 
opening of the round, he lay motionless upon 



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AT WEST POINT 


215 

the ground while Speedwell slowly counted 
off the fatal seconds — “ eight, nine, ten.” 

“ Mr. Atwell wins,” said he quietly, as he 
closed his watch, and turned away from the 
ring. 

“ You’re fine, Douglas, you’re fine,” 
chuckled Roderick as he and Karl grasped 
him by the hand and patted him on the 
back. “ Nothing of your weight can beat 
you. It was a triumph, old boy, a walkover. 
You have scarcely been touched.” 

Douglas smiled grimly through the water 
that dripped down his face as Roderick and 
Karl sponged him off, for the numerous 
lumps, bruises, and bloody spots could hardly 
confirm Rory’s enthusiastic comment. In 
five minutes, however, he was dressed and 
ready to return to camp, with a sadly dis- 
colored eye as the only visible evidence of 
the encounter, while Forbes and Madden still 
worked over the limp form of his defeated foe. 

“ You’ll have to carry him back to camp, 
Forbes,” said Speedwell. “ We can’t wait 
any longer.” And so with Hadley half 
carried, half stumbling along between his 
seconds, the group turned back to camp. 


2l6 


A PLEBE 


Not an officer was about as the party crept 
back across the sentinel’s post, and all were 
safely out of danger when Douglas and 
Roderick shook hands with Karl and re- 
turned to their tent. It was now 4 : 30 a. m., 
and broad daylight, but the members of the 
company were still soundly sleeping in the 
mellow hue, enjoying these last exquisite mo- 
ments of rest just before reveille, which are 
so sweet to every cadet. 

“ Jackson is not back yet,’ ’ whispered 
Douglas as he tossed off his blouse and pre- 
pared to shave. “ I wonder if he is making a 
game fight.” 

“ Game, did you say, Miss Charity ? ” 
drawled Rory in a tone of mock gravity 
which forced Douglas to recognize the in- 
sincerity of his query. “Well I don’t guess, 
nor reckon, nor cal’late that Jack will win a 
medal of honor for distinguished gallantry in 
action this morning. Ah, here he comes,” 
he added excitedly as he glanced down the 
company street, “ and by Jove, it looks as if 
he had won.” 

Jackson was smiling and apparently jubi- 
lant, and though his face bore few marks of 


AT WEST POINT 


217 


combat, he had all the appearances of a victor. 
Storms appeared reticent and moody, how- 
ever, and Smoke was positively gloomy. 

Douglas watched them astonished and 
mystified, but the meaning of this strange 
proceeding was announced a few minutes 
later when the company awoke with the roar 
of the reveille gun and every yearling asked 
every other, “ How did the fights come 
out?” 

“ Mr. Atwell knocked out Hadley in less 
than two rounds, positively smothered him,” 
said a yearling member of the guard as he 
stopped with his roll of bedding in the com- 
pany street, “ and Mr. Jackson lay down like 
a coward, — but won on a foul.” 

The news ran through camp like a prairie 
fire, and while the disappointment was keen 
at Hadley’s crushing defeat, yet the pre- 
dominating tone was one of contempt for the 
coward who won by a contemptible trick. 

“ Cut him, cut him, 'that’s the thing to do,” 
vociferated one of the yearlings who had been 
Marston’s second. “ It was the worst case of 
flunking I ever saw. In the first round, Mr. 
Jackson jumped into the fight very aggres- 


2l8 


A PLEBE 


sively, and it looked as if he would hold his 
own, until Marston got one good, square crack 
at him. After that he lay down every time 
he was touched and took the limit before get- 
ting up. Even his seconds called on him to 
stand up and fight like a man, and the farce 
continued for four rounds. Then Marston got 
so anxious that he rushed in and fouled him 
by striking while he was touching the ground 
with his hand. The referee gave the fight to 
Mr. Jackson and left the field in disgust; but 
that’s not the worst. As the outfit started 
back to cross the sentinel’s post, the officer in 
charge stepped out of his tent, hived the whole 
bunch, and there’s trouble for all concerned.” 

The first call for reveille had sounded, and 
but a moment remained before the assembly 
when Douglas, clean shaven and as neat as a 
model, stepped out into the company street. 
Every eye was upon him as he walked to his 
place in line, but his manner was beyond re- 
proach, for he was again “ the plain, humble 
plebe,” ready to obey unhesitatingly and to be 
hazed again, if necessary, on legal grounds. 

“ He fought like a tiger,” said Speedwell, as 
he glanced across from A Company. “ There 


AT WEST POINT 


219 

is no man in the corps within thirty pounds 
of his weight who can whip him. Hadley 
was really defeated in the first minute, and 
only the call of time saved him at the end of 
the first round. The boy won his fight gal- 
lantly and I hope they will leave him alone. 
If Thorpe himself forces him into a fight the 
plebe will win in spite of his lightness, and I 
will be glad to referee the fight and count 
Thorpe out.” 

The assembly for reveille sounded, McLane 
called the roll, and reported Cadet Jackson 
absent from the formation. The latter had 
heard the bitter comment of the yearlings 
upon his conduct, and found himself con- 
demned when he expected approval. He had 
won his fight by “ better strategy than that 
employed by his bungling opponent,” and he 
thought himself entitled to the honors of a 
victor. It was clear, however, that even 
Storms and Smoke disapproved of his conduct, 
and though only slightly bruised, he seized 
upon the opportunity of absenting himself 
from reveille and of placing his name upon 
the sick report. 

Hadley, too, was absent — had been carried 


220 


A PLEBE 


to the hospital upon a stretcher, where he was 
destined to spend two weeks in meditation 
upon the inadvisibility of throwing plebes of 
unknown muscular ability into the Fort Clin- 
ton ditch. 

Although Douglas had dealt his antagonist 
a crushing defeat, he had not escaped without 
punishment in return, and his head ached 
and throbbed miserably at every step. In 
spite of his aches and bruises, however, he re- 
solved to attend all formations for the day, 
and to do his full duty without excuse or com- 
plaint. The first call for infantry drill there- 
fore found him armed and equipped and ready 
for work, and few there were among his class- 
mates who did not take advantage of the op- 
portunity to congratulate him on the outcome 
of the fight. This was especially gratifying to 
him, as he had recently felt a strange disposi- 
tion on the part of his comrades to avoid his 
company and resent his friendliness, but now 
the atmosphere seemed completely changed. 
His was the first great victory won by a plebe, 
and all hailed in the victor a coming leader of 
the class. As he stood among his admiring 
friends he felt repaid for all his injuries in the 


AT WEST POINT 


221 


feeling of new comradeship and fellowship for 
which he had longed. 

Douglas was happy, but his happiness was 
destined to be short-lived. The class had fin- 
ished its drill and he was approaching the 
tent of one of his classmates when he heard 
the latter’s voice in earnest conversation. “ A 
plebe can afford to lose in a fair fight,” the lad 
was saying, “ but he can’t afford to win by a 
dishonorable trick. I would respect Jackson 
more if he had lost like a man, and I’d re- 
spect Atwell more than any other man in the 
class if it wasn’t for that nasty report concern- 
ing him that has been in circulation. You 
know we can’t have any use for a man who 
has the slightest taint of that sort about him. 
He may be a game fighter, but he is not fit to 
be a cadet.” 

Douglas heard the words and his face 
flamed with indignation. What was this 
“ taint” to which his classmate referred? It 
was something positive and serious to call for 
such a strong expression of opinion, yet his 
conscience was not only free from reproach, 
but rather commended him for doing his duty 
in spite of all obstacles. Surely no “ taint ” 


222 


A PLEBE 


could attach to him for his conduct in the 
army or at the military academy, yet here 
was a classmate who had heard reports of such 
compromising character that he deemed him 
unfit to be a cadet. 

As Douglas walked back to his tent racking 
his brain for some reason to explain his com- 
rade’s statement, the words of Littlefield 
flashed into his mind : “ You have made 

some enemies in the upper classes, Mr. Atwell, 
but they are easily dealt with. I don’t wish 
to interfere in your personal affairs, but I 
would suggest, from certain things that hap- 
pened in barracks, that some members of your 
own class need close observation.” 

“ It’s Jackson’s work again,” he mused with 
a scornful laugh. “ Those who wish to listen 
to that coward’s calumny may do so, and they 
may cut my acquaintance as soon as they 
like.” 

“ Hello, old Vulcan,” said Rory as he pulled 
article after article from his locker, “ what is 
the matter? You look as if some one had 
punctured your bellows.” 

“ Oh, nothing’s the matter except that I have 
just had a little reminder that I have some 


AT WEST POINT 


223 

friends/’ said Douglas as he waved his hand 
in the direction of Jackson’s tent. 

“ So? ” said Rory. “ That’s ancient history. 
The present occupies me, for I would like to 
find my gold watch. Did you see anything 
of it?” 

“ No,” said Douglas, “ where did you have 
it last ? ” 

“ I remember showing it to Jackson last 
night,” said Rory meditatively, “ but as usual 
I don’t know what I did afterward. At any 
rate, it is gone ; I’ve lost a valuable souvenir, 
and there is something mighty queer about 
its disappearance.” 


CHAPTER XI 


MR. THORPE IN TROUBLE 

The early days of August had arrived, and 
less than four weeks remained of plebe camp. 
A month of incessant drills under cloudless, 
burning skies was broken at last, for a storm 
had raged all day, and the battened down 
sides of the tents were spattered with mud 
when the battalion, in sombre gray trousers 
and rain-coats, marched back to camp from 
supper. 

No rain was now falling, but black clouds 
tossed and rolled upon one another as they 
drifted to the southwest across old Cro’s Nest, 
and all first classmen knew, from the princi- 
ples of meteorology, that the storm was but 
gathering fury, and that there would be no 
drills on the morrow. 

“ Peg down your tent walls thoroughly to- 
night/’ said Littlefield as he walked down the 
company street after the battalion had been 
dismissed, and stopped in front of Atwell’s 

224 


AT WEST POINT 


225 

tent. He glanced up at the frowning sky for 
a moment, and then thrust the dripping tent- 
flies aside and stepped into the tent. At sight 
of the upper classman, Douglas and his tent- 
mates sprang to attention, and awaited his 
wishes. 

“ Mr. Atwell, can you make out the hop- 
cards for Mr. Winslow and me on Friday 
night ? It is a long distance ahead, but your 
reputation as penman and artist has spread, 
and I want to get in my application early or 
I’ll have to write the card myself — a calamity 
I must avoid.” 

“ I have several other engagements, but I 
will write the card, sir,” said Douglas. 

“ Thank you,” said Littlefield, “ but I am 
going to ask you for another favor. I am on 
the committee to get out a design for the 
winter hop-cards. The series will begin in 
September, and we wish to get out the cards 
as soon as possible with a handsome and ap- 
propriate design. I have outlined the general 
plan here on this piece of paper and would 
like to have you sketch it out according to 
your own tastes. Do you think you can find 
the time to do it for me, Mr. Atwell?” 


226 


A PLEBE 


“ I can, sir, with pleasure,” said Douglas 
earnestly, and indeed his happiest moments 
were those he spent in doing some little cour- 
tesy such as this for Littlefield or Winslow. 

As Douglas stood examining the rough out- 
line of the design, the rain burst suddenly 
upon the camp anew and Littlefield glanced 
out upon the flooded company street. 

“ I can’t go in this storm,” said he, turning 
away from the dripping tent- flap, “ so I will 
have to force my company upon you till it 
clears ; so sit down, gentlemen, and do not let 
me disturb your work.” 

Littlefield himself sank upon the locker, 
camp chairs being tabooed luxuries among 
the plebes, while Douglas and Roderick seated 
themselves upon the bedding and Jacques 
selected the cleaning box. It was Littlefield’s 
peculiarity that he could step into a tent as 
guest, yet as commanding officer ; stand up 
plebes at rigid attention, yet make them feel 
honored for the privilege ; make requests for 
favors, yet seem to confer them, and no 
plebe ever left his presence with a heavy 
heart. 

“ I imagine that this reminds you of the 


AT WEST POINT 


227 


rainy season in the Philippines, Mr. Atwell/’ 
said Littlefield as he glanced down at the little 
rill which was racing along the edge of the 
tent-floor. 

“ Somewhat, sir, except that it rains like 
this for three months in Luzon. The men in 
the field are drenched by terrific showers, and 
a few moments later they are almost blistered 
by the heat of the sun.” 

“An experience which I suppose I will be 
enjoying next year, as I expect to join the 
infantry upon graduation and will ask for 
assignment to the Philippines. You had a 
very interesting experience there, I hear, Mr. 
Atwell.” 

“ Yes, sir, I had my share of adventure.” 

“ And won your cadetship for the service 
you rendered ? ” 

“ Yes, sir,” said Douglas, blushing, for he 
had avoided all conversation on this topic 
with his classmates, preferring to stand abso- 
lutely upon his merits as a cadet. 

“ You were present on the night of the out- 
break of hostilities, and witnessed the firing 
of the first shot ? ” 

Douglas assented, astonished that the young 


228 A PLEBE 

cadet officer should know so much of his 
military history. 

“ Well,” said Littlefield as he tossed aside 
his rain-coat, “ this storm is not going to allow 
me to get to my tent, so while I wait, will you 
please tell me the story of the campaign ? ” 

“If you wish it, sir,” said Douglas, for he 
felt that he could decline no reasonable request 
from the man who had favored him so hand- 
somely when he needed a word of advice. 

It was indeed an interesting, a thrilling 
story, this story of the campaign in which 
this gallant boy had served beneath the flag 
upon the battle line on a dozen bloody fields. 
His pulse quickened, his face glowed, his 
heart leaped to the inspiration of the theme 
as he graphically related his experience on 
that first night at the bridge across the San 
Juan River when a detachment of insurgent 
troops attempted to force their way through 
the American lines and were arrested by a 
shot. He could see the flash yet, could hear 
the reverberations rolling out upon the night 
air, reverberations which awakened fifty 
thousand American troops to action to crush 
the insurrection which had thus begun. 


AT WEST POINT 


229 


On the following morning came the never- 
to-be-forgotten charge on Blockhouse No. 14, 
his first great test under fire, followed a month 
later by the forcing of the Tuliahan, the con- 
quering of the Marilao and the Quingua, 
both deep, unfordable rivers guarded by 
trenches which commanded every inch of the 
approach and met the advancing American 
lines with a frightful, crushing fire. Here it 
was, on the banks of the Quingua that brave 
Bill Smathers met a heroic death to save our 
young friend’s life, but Douglas omitted all 
reference to the incident, for Bill Smathers 
was killed by an American rifle which had 
fallen into the hands of the insurgents under 
circumstances which compromised a name 
which Douglas felt compelled to protect. 

“ You were captured later, were you not, 
Mr. Atwell?” said Littlefield as he bent for- 
ward and eagerly listened to every word. 
“ Tell me about that.” 

Douglas resumed his narrative, relating 
how, while riding on horseback between two 
adjacent stations, he dismounted to ask for a 
drink of water, when ten insurgents, disguised 
as laborers but armed with bolos, sprang upon 


230 


A PLEBE 


him, bound him hand and foot, lashed him 
to a bamboo stake, and dashed off with him 
to the forest. No story ever held a more at- 
tentive and interested audience than this 
simple narrative of Douglas Atwell’s as he 
portrayed his life in the insurgent camp, his 
escape from death through the help of a 
friendly Igorrote, while two of his comrades 
were being assassinated by bolomen, and 
finally his night ride to the capture of Vicente 
Prado, the insurgent commander of the camp. 
It was this last feat which ’won for him his 
cadetship and made him to-night a plebe in 
camp at West Point. 

“ You’ve had a remarkable experience, Mr. 
Atwell,” said Littlefield as he cast an admir- 
ing glance at the plebe, while Rory and 
Jacques sat transfixed at the narrative they 
had never heard before, “ but why did you 
take that ride through a hostile country, and 
subject yourself to the danger of capture?” 

“ I had heard that I was needed at my com- 
pany, sir.” 

“ How did you hear it? ” said Littlefield as 
he fixed his searching glance upon the 
plebe. 


AT WEST POINT 


231 

Douglas hesitated and his face turned pale. 
“ I can’t answer that, sir,” said he firmly. 

Littlefield visibly started. “ You haven’t 
mentioned Mr. Jackson during your narra- 
tive,” said he. “ Didn’t he serve in the same 
company with you during the campaign ? ” 

“ Yes, sir,” said Douglas, and the conversa- 
tion came to a most embarrassing termination. 

Littlefield’s face bore the slightest possible 
suspicion of a smile as he rose and looked out 
into the company street. “ I think the storm 
is passing,” said he, “ and I will get back to 
my tent. I have been delightfully entertained 
by your story, Mr. Atwell, but I happen to 
know something about that campaign myself, 
and I could read a bit between the lines. 
Lieutenant Milton, who commanded your 
company throughout the campaign, happens 
to be a cousin of mine, and he has written me 
very fully and confidentially upon some inci- 
dents. Your story completes the unfinished 
part and makes me understand some recent 
events.” 

Littlefield turned as he pressed back the 
tent-flaps, and Douglas looked up anxiously 
into his fine, handsome face. Apparently the 


232 


A PLEBE 


young cadet officer knew something of Jack- 
son’s service in the ranks, and Douglas saw in 
his words not only an explanation of his con- 
duct before the cadet court of honor, but also 
the reason for his warning when he said, 
“ There are some members of your own class 
who need observation.” And could Douglas 
have looked into the future he would have 
seen his fate as a cadet and gentleman, his 
hope of honorable distinction, hanging upon 
the incidents revealed to Littlefield in the con- 
versation which had just taken place. 

“ Great Scott,” exclaimed Roderick, when 
Littlefield had passed beyond ear-shot, “ that 
was a thrilling experience. Why, you are a 
regular eighteen carat hero and I never knew 
it. I’ve been with you for two months now 
and I haven’t been able to poke a word out of 
you about the campaign — you’ve been about 
as confidential as an Egyptian mummy ; but, 
by Jove, I respect you for it. You’re no horn- 
blower, but what I want to know is this : 
what was that veiled reference to my old 
friend Jack? Did he turn out gun-shy?” 

“ ’Tain’t that, Rory,” said Jacques compla- 
cently. “ There’s a nigger in the wood-pile 


AT WEST POINT 


2 33 


somewhere, and a big one too, and by and by 
he’s coming out, but Douglas gets the lockjaw 
every time it comes to talking about it, and 
you might as well quit trying to find out.” 

As the young men spoke the tent-flap was 
pushed aside and Thorpe thrust in his head. 

“ Mr. Atwell,” said he, “ you were reported 
for an error in manual at parade last night, 
which shows me that you are sadly in need of 
instruction ; so get your rifle and report at 
once at my tent.” 

Roderick O’Connor shifted uneasily, and 
looked up at Douglas with an air of expect- 
ancy, but the latter quietly assented, picked 
up his rifle, and Thorpe turned aw T ay with a 
grin of satisfaction. 

“ Why did you do it, Douglas ? ” asked 
Rory, impatiently. “ I could have given him 
cause for a quarrel, and you know I would 
willingly spend two months in light prison 
for the chance of licking him in a fair fight.” 

“ We’ve had enough fighting, and I don’t 
care to have the appearance of resisting haz- 
ing when I really need correction,” answered 
Douglas as he stepped out into the company 
street with his rifle. 


234 


A PLEBE 


He had suffered little hazing since his cele- 
brated fight with Frank Hadley now nearly a 
month ago, but the plebes as a class had felt 
the burden of the victory. Thorpe and his 
comrades were loud in their declarations that 
there was a marked increase in B. J.ety among 
the plebes which was directly traceable to 
their success in these two fights, and that 
there could be no truce until this insubordi- 
nate propensity was crushed and conquered. 
The yearlings were thoroughly sore. They 
had lost two of their four fights, and more- 
over, the discovery by the officer in charge of 
the party returning from the Marston-Jackson 
fight, had led to an investigation, and for 
officiating as referee thereat Cadet Lieutenant 
Drake had been reduced to the ranks, and all 
concerned had been confined to camp and 
awarded tours of extra duty every Wed- 
nesday and Saturday afternoon for one 
month. 

“ I can take my punishment easily enough,” 
said one of Marston’s seconds, “ except when I 
think of the circumstances. Mr. Jackson 
flunked like a coward and nevertheless won 
by goading Marston into fouling him. There 


AT WEST POINT 


2 35 

can be no peace till that disgrace has been 
wiped out.” 

As a result of the indignation that had 
been aroused, excessive and improper methods 
of hazing had been freely practiced, and one 
third classman who was caught in the act, 
had been summarily dismissed by the super- 
intendent, thus giving an index to the char- 
acter of campaign which he proposed to wage 
against the practice. He who attempted to 
haze a plebe did so at serious peril. 

Realizing this, Douglas felt that he could 
not shrink behind the official protection of 
his superiors, to resist correction for a real 
mistake, even though it came from an un- 
authorized source and for the purpose of 
annoying him. Hence he now found him- 
self marching straight toward Thorpe’s tent 
in obedience to his summons. 

The rain had temporarily ceased, but the 
tent-flaps were still down and a dim candle 
burned within as Douglas knocked and 
heard the command, “ Come in.” 

To his astonishment, Jackson was in the 
tent standing at rigid attention before Bobbie 
MacGregor, as the latter unfolded a San 


A PLEBE 


236 

Francisco paper. No other plebe in camp 
had been so severely hazed as he since his re- 
turn from hospital, for the yearlings desired 
to make up for the time lost while he was in 
preparation for his fight and subsequently on 
sick report. 

“ Noiseless manual, Mr. Atwell,” said 
Thorpe with a wave of his hand. “ Order to 
right shoulder, and right shoulder to order 
without letting the rifle strike the floor. 
Continue the motion until I tell you to stop.” 

“ We have something very much more ex- 
hilarating and amusing than that for you, 
Mr. Jackson,” said Bobbie. “ A friend in 
San Francisco sent me this newspaper, which 
tells me what a brave and gallant plebe you 
are, and awakens in me a deep sense of regret 
that I did not appreciate your virtues before. 
Mr. Jackson, please read aloud.” 

Jackson took the paper and turned crimson 
as he announced the heading : 

“ A PLEBE’ S PLUCKY FLGHT. 

“ In a furious encounter of four rounds , 
Cadet Leland C. Jackson of California 
thrashes a yearling who attempts to 
haze him.” 


AT WEST POINT 


2 37 


“ Louder, louder, Mr. Jackson, you’ll have 
a bigger and more appreciative audience to- 
morrow night, you’re only rehearsing now,” 
chuckled Bobbie, as he lay back upon a 
locker and enjoyed the spectacle, while the 
“ plucky plebe ” read the home paper’s 
version of his fight with Marston. 

In every line the “ Californian ” was 
painted a hero of magnificent proportions, 
who had handled an insolent yearling as a 
mastiff might handle a puppy. “ Mr. Jack- 
son,” said the article, “ is a young man of 
unusual mental attainments, and a first class 
athlete. At the breaking out of the Spanish- 
American War, he was among the first to 
spring to the defense of the colors, and with 
restless persistence sought the front until he 
was assigned to troops destined for the 
Philippines. 

“ Here he chose to serve as a private 
soldier, declining all offers of promotion, 
though his social and financial position 
would have entitled him to exalted com- 
missioned rank, and for conspicuous gallan- 
try in action he was awarded a cadetship at 
West Point b}^ direct appointment of the 


A PLEBE 


238 

President. His career at the academy has 
been marked by the same striking fidelity to 
duty which characterized his services in the 
ranks, and California is justly proud of her 
plucky representative, who has had the 
courage to resist the brutal hazing of the 
upper classes, and to make a fight for the 
emancipation of the plebe.” 

“ Great Jehosaphat ! ” exclaimed Bobbie 
MacGregor, as he clapped his hands across 
his mouth in a mock effort to restrain his 
mirth. “ Let me have the paper, Mr. Jack- 
son. You must read it to every member of 
the corps. You don’t know how delighted I 
am to know you ! ” and Bobbie pursed out his 
lips and laughed derisively. 

“ Now I think we’d better dismiss this 
distinguished audience, Thorpe,” said he. “ I 
think they have had about enough.” 

“ Not a bit of it,” said Thorpe decidedly. 
“ I am conducting the campaign against the 
tyranny of the plebes. Double step, march, 
Mr. Jackson. Continue the motion, Mr. 
Atwell.” 

“ Oh, steady, steady, Thorpe,” said Bobbie 
in a tone of dissent, “ you are inviting dis- 


AT WEST POINT 


239 

aster, and I’m going to get out, as I have no 
desire to share your fate.” 

“ Then trot along, Bobbie, the funeral’s 
mine.” 

Bobbie walked back to his tent in very 
bad humor, for though an advocate of 
strenuous supervision of plebe ideas he was 
yet no advocate of excess. 

“ Mr. Jackson,” said Thorpe as he watched 
the angry plebe exercising at his command, 
“ there are two men who ought to be dismissed 
from the Military Academy. Can you guess 
who they are ? ” 

“ No, sir,” said Jackson. 

“ Well, I’m one of them and you are the 
other ; I, for hazing you, and you for needing 
it so badly. Now get ’em up, more yet.” 

Bobbie MacGregor had scarcely reached his 
tent when Captain Barton, the officer in 
charge, stepped out of his tent and started 
down D Company street toward the guard 
tent. He glanced from right to left as he 
went, for the battened down tents and the 
dark night afforded an opportunity to mete 
out “some much needed correction to the 
plebes.” 


240 


A PLEBE 


As he arrived opposite Thorpe’s tent, the 
regular sound of footfalls arrested his atten- 
tion, and he came to a halt in the company 
street. The tent-flap swung open in the breeze 
and Douglas saw the flash of Captain Barton’s 
sword, and a rapid glance toward Jackson re- 
vealed the fact that he too had discovered the 
offlcer’s presence, while Thorpe was utterly 
unconscious of the situation. 

“ Get ’em up, Mr. Jackson, get ’em up, sir ; 
more yet,” growled Thorpe savagely as he sat 
upon his locker and beat time with his hands. 

Jackson responded with an enthusiasm 
quite unusual to him, then staggered forward 
a bit and fell with a crash to the floor. 

The tent-flaps were flung aside and Captain 
Barton stood over the fallen plebe. 

“ Stand right where you are, Mr. Thorpe ; 
you are in arrest, sir,” said he sharply. “ Who 
is this fourth classman ? ” 

“ Mr. Jackson, sir,” said Thorpe, trembling. 

“ Mr. Atwell, have you also been exercising 
under Mr. Thorpe’s orders ? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ How long?” 

“ A few minutes, sir.” 


AT WEST POINT 


241 


“ As long as Mr. Jackson ? ” 

“ Longer, sir.” 

“ How long has Mr. Jackson been exercis- 
ing ?” 

“ Less than two minutes, sir.” 

“ How do you know ? ” 

“ I noticed the clock in the stretcher, sir.” 

“ Well, did not Mr. Jackson faint from ex- 
haustion produced by the exercising?” 

Douglas caught his breath and remained 
silent, and Captain Barton turned sharply to- 
ward him, determined to secure conclusive 
evidence upon the spot concerning the hazing 
of the plebe and the degree of injury result- 
ing therefrom. 

“ Answer my question, Mr. Atwell,” said he. 
“ Did Mr. Jackson faint from exhaustion in- 
duced by the hazing he has undergone?” 

The question was in the course of an official 
enquiry and there was no escaping an answer. 

“ Mr. Jackson has not fainted at all,” said 
Douglas, “he is feigning exhaustion, sir.” 

Jackson started and opened his eyes, and 
Captain Barton gazed at him in astonishment. 

“ Return to your tent, Mr. Jackson,” said he 
grimly, “and you to yours, Mr. Atwell.” 


CHAPTER XII 


THE LAST DAYS OF CAMP 

“ Cut ” by the upper classes, both the 
yearlings and the first classmen ! This was 
Jackson’s punishment for “ conduct unbe- 
coming a cadet and gentleman ” in feigning ex- 
haustion, and thus by a dishonorable act, at- 
tracting an officer’s attention to Thorpe, who 
was hazing him. By this course of action, 
Jackson was blotted out of existence so far as 
the upper classes were concerned. 

“ He will never be hazed again,” said Bobbie 
MacGregor as he stood in Douglas’ tent, “ for 
men who have been cut are deemed beneath 
contempt. So long as he is at West Point, no 
member of my class will address him except 
on official business. He will suffer the most 
complete and relentless ostracism that was 
ever inflicted by any body of men, for even to 
show him friendliness would invite a similar 
fate. He will always be known to our class 
by the plebe name of Mr. Jackson, and will 
be permitted no part in any social affair in 

242 


AT WEST POINT 


243 


which we are concerned. His reputation will 
get out on the post, and when he becomes a 
yearling the contempt of the fair sex will 
sting him much more keenly than any punish- 
ment we could inflict. No matter how your 
class may feel, you will find it impossible to 
support a man like that, and one by one you 
will fall away from him, and he will finally be 
forced to get out of the corps by sheer loneli- 
ness and isolation. 

“ He richly deserved all he got, Mr. Atwell, 
but you are the man responsible for the 
verdict. Mr. Jackson should have been cut 
for his conduct in the gymnasium affair ; again, 
for flunking in his fight with Mr. Marston ; 
but nevertheless, he would have escaped sen- 
tence had it not been for that little scene with 
you in Mr. Thorpe’s tent.” 

The perspiration stood out on Douglas At- 
well’s forehead. He had not dreamed of re- 
sults such as these, yet he had been forced to 
respond to Captain Barton’s questions, and 
truth permitted no other answer. 

“ I am very sorry for Mr. Jackson,” said 
Douglas, “ but I don’t see how I could have 
avoided responsibility.” 


244 


A PLEBE 


“ You couldn’t, Mr. Atwell, and the whole 
yearling class is grateful to you for giving a 
decisive answer that clinched all doubts. I 
suppose you know that the general court- 
martial meets to-day for the trial of Mr. 
Thorpe ? ” 

“ No, sir, I had not heard it.” 

“ Well then, you’d better gather yourself, for 
you will be the principal witness for the pros- 
ecution, and you may rest assured that you 
will have a merry time of it between the 
judge advocate and the counsel for the de- 
fense. Mr. Thorpe has engaged one of the 
best young lawyers in New York to defend 
him. Between these energetic law-sharks you 
will be hung and quartered, Mr. Atwell ; ” and 
with this comforting assurance, Bobbie dashed 
out of the tent and crossed the company street 
to get ready for drill. Douglas and his tent- 
mates also hastily dressed in campaign hats, 
gray flannel shirts, trousers and leggings, for 
the whole class had been consolidated for in- 
fantry drill to begin at 7 : 30 a. m. and continue 
daily until the termination of camp. 

The drummer sounded the assembly at the 
guard-tent and the formless group of gray 


AT WEST POINT 


245 


upon the parade ground straightened out into 
lines as erect and silent as statuary, and a 
moment later marched away to drill. 

It was drill, drill, drill ! 

From seven o’clock in the morning until six 
o’clock in the evening, detachment after de- 
tachment formed ranks and marched away in 
all directions to the never-ending drills. The 
whole camp moved to the swing of the drum- 
stick. From the time the reveille gun roared 
out its salute to the rising sun, to the flag 
fluttering up the halyards to the top of the 
flagstaff, until the dark lantern inspection at 
taps, every gray-coated cadet moved like an 
automaton to the rattle of the drum. 

There were drills in cavalry, artillery, and 
infantry ; in closed order, open order, and 
battle order ; in the school of the cannonier, 
the soldier, the squad, the company and the 
battalion ; in practice marches, advance and 
rear guard, outposts, camping and cooking ; 
in light battery, siege battery, seacoast battery, 
and mountain battery ; in the use of machine 
guns, in pack trains and pontoon bridges ; in 
hasty entrenchments, wire entanglements, etc., 
etc., etc., and yet under the supervision of the 


A PLEBE 


246 

cadet officers and their superiors, the plebes 
had acquired a knowledge of their share in 
these duties which could not have been im- 
parted by a year’s instruction under any 
other system. 

For the plebes there was no intermission 
from the steady grind. As soon as the day’s 
work was done, it was necessary to turn to the 
stained and tarnished equipment, and make it 
shine like a mirror, whereas the superior train- 
ing of the upper classes enabled them to 
spend their evenings in pleasant diversions. 
Hops every Tuesday and Saturday and band 
concerts every Thursday made the encamp- 
ment the finest part of cadet life to them, 
and many regrets were expressed that the 
period was drawing to a close in less than 
two weeks. 

The plebes had some enjoyments, for the 
upper classes had formed a musical club to 
which plebes who could play any instrument 
were admitted, and the latter thoroughly en- 
joyed their nights in camp when a circle was 
formed at the head of the company street and 
selections were excellently rendered during 
the intermissions in the band concert. O11 


AT WEST POINT 


247 


these occasions, the cadets and their friends 
would bring their camp stools midway be- 
tween the camp and the visitors’ seats, and 
equally applaud the band and the local talent. 

Jacques with his soft guitar, and Roderick 
with his talented violin were members of this 
select circle, but as Douglas could play only 
on the jew’s-harp, he had no seat among the 
musicians. Many pleasant evenings he had 
spent, nevertheless, for his ability as a sketch 
artist had become well known, and a friendly 
corner was ever ready for him at any upper 
classman’s tent for whom he could find time 
to make a hop-card. 

The hazing, moreover, had abated somewhat, 
for the pending trial of Thorpe had arrested 
the zeal of his reckless coterie and the punish- 
ment inflicted upon Jackson had palliated the 
disgruntled feelings of the conservatives. The 
latter’s conduct, though contemptible in the 
eyes of all, was not punishable as a military 
offense, but Thorpe’s case was different, and 
his fate would soon be known. The trial had 
already begun in the big Academic Building, 
and Jackson had been absent all morning as a 
witness before the court. 


A PLEBE 


248 

Tired and dusty, Douglas was returning 
from drill at 9:30 a. m., when McLane met 
him in the company street. 

“ You are wanted as a witness before the 
general court, Mr. Atwell,” said he. “Turn 
out in full dress, with side-arms and white 
gloves, and report at room 201, Academic 
Building, at ten o’clock sharp.” 

“ Very well, sir,” said Douglas. 

“ You will be absent from formation for 
swimming and dancing? ” 

“ Only dancing ; I’ve qualified in swim- 
ming, sir.” 

Douglas hurried to his tent, for he had only 
a half hour in which to dress and reach the 
Academic Building. It was a most disagree- 
able task, yet he was glad to face anything to 
escape his lesson in dancing, for Douglas was 
a dismal failure in this department of phys- 
ical culture. He, with Zeke Shanks and big 
Karl Krumms, formed a trio which was driv- 
ing Ludwig, the talented instructor, to the 
verge of madness. In swimming, however, 
he was among the best of his class, and within 
a week after the beginning of the season, he 
swam with the unbroken chest stroke for ten 


AT WEST POINT 


249 


consecutive minutes, and was therefore no 
longer required to attend instruction. His 
love for the sport induced him to attend fre- 
quently with his section, however, and swim 
at will while some of his less favored class- 
mates were receiving the admonitions of Sandy 
Mahan. 

Douglas would not enjoy this pleasure to- 
day, for as the section was gathering up bath- 
towels and dancing pumps, he was marching 
across the cavalry plain to report to the judge 
advocate of the court. His heart was beating 
anxiously as he entered the Academic Build- 
ing for the first time and mounted to the top 
of the stone steps, where two soldier orderlies 
stood waiting. 

“ Right up-stairs, sir,” said one of them, a 
natty young soldier of the cavalry detach- 
ment, whose yellow musician’s stripes and fine 
fitting blouse set off his figure to excellent ad- 
vantage. 

“ That’s young Atwell,” said he to his com- 
rade as his eyes followed Douglas up the sec- 
ond flight. “ He’s the lad that thrashed that 
yearling so badly over there in camp ’bout a 
month back. He can lick anything of his 


250 


A PLEBE 


weight in the corps — sojer, you know, came 
here on his work in the ranks. Just watch 
him when the football season opens.” 

Unconscious of the admiring glances of the 
two soldiers, Douglas mounted to the head of 
the stairs and stood in the hall of the Aca- 
demic Building. Behind the closed doors of 
room 201, he could hear the voice of the judge 
advocate as he asked the final questions of the 
witness on the stand. Then some one walked 
across the floor, the door swung open, and 
Jackson stepped out into the hall. 

In his campaign in the Philippines, Douglas 
had looked into the faces of savage Filipinos 
whom he had encountered in a death struggle 
in the trenches, but never had he beheld a 
more malicious glitter than that which shone 
in Jackson’s eyes as they faced each other on 
the landing. The “ plucky Californian’s” 
face was damp with perspiration, his collar 
was wilting, and his hands shook with nerv- 
ous anger. For two whole hours he had been 
on the witness stand, and for the major part 
of that time he had been under the merciless 
cross-examination of Thorpe’s brilliant coun- 
sel. He had been exposed as a sham and hu* 


AT WEST POINT 


251 


miliated to the earth by the exquisite sarcasm 
of the talented lawyer, and throughout this 
fearful ordeal one picture was constantly held 
before his tortured mind : “ Mr. Atwell, your 

own classmate, recognized the sham and trick- 
ery you were attempting to practice.” 

So far as the verdict of the court was con- 
cerned, the cross-examination was a mere 
waste of time, but Thorpe was striving for a 
reduction of sentence, or for material to use 
in his fight at Washington for reinstatement 
in case of dismissal. 

As Jackson hurried down-stairs, the judge 
advocate appeared at the door. 

“ Come in, Mr. Atwell,” said he. 

Thirteen officers, all in full-dress uniform, 
sat about a long table in the centre of the 
room and all eyes were turned upon Douglas 
as he entered. Captain McAuley, the presi- 
dent of the court, sat at the head of the 
table, the seat for the judge advocate was 
at the foot, and the members of the court 
were arranged in order of rank along 
the sides. Thorpe was seated in earnest 
consultation with his counsel at a small table 
somewhat removed from the large one. 


252 


A PLEBE 


“ The judge advocate desires to introduce 
Mr. Atwell as a witness for the prosecution / 7 
said Lieutenant Wheaton, and then turning 
to Douglas, he added, “ remove your right 
hand glove and raise your right hand.” 

Douglas was sworn to tell the “ truth, the 
whole truth, and nothing but the truth / 7 and 
then took the witness stand opposite to 
Thorpe. His testimony was taken by the 
slow and tedious method of writing out both 
questions and answers in long hand, for 
stenographers are allowed for military courts 
only in the most important and extended 
cases. In course of half an hour, however, 
Lieutenant Wheaton had established all that 
he desired — that Cadet Thorpe had hazed two 
fourth classmen, Cadets Atwell and Jackson, 
by causing them to perform various exercises, 
and assume constrained positions in violations 
of the regulations of the United States Mili- 
tary Academy. In his answers, Douglas had 
been most direct, clear, and straightforward, 
concealing nothing and exposing no more 
than was necessary to properly cover the 
question, and his manner had made an ex- 
cellent impression. 


AT WEST POINT 


253 


The court had no questions to ask, but 
Thorpe’s counsel was on the alert and wait- 
ing for the opportunity, and Douglas realized 
that the gap between himself and Jackson 
widened with every word as he was forced 
to expose the dishonorable conduct of his 
classmate. 

“ Aside from your own observation, Mr. At- 
well,” said the lawyer, “ have you any ad- 
ditional reason for knowing that Mr. Jackson 
was shamming? ” 

“ Yes, sir. Mr. Jackson was examined by 
one of the post surgeons immediately after 
the incident, and the surgeon said in my 
presence that Mr. Jackson was not suffering 
from exhaustion.” 

“ Who was the surgeon ? ” 

“ Assistant Surgeon Plaisted, sir.” 

“ I will ask that he be called before the 
court at a later date,” said the lawyer ad- 
dressing the president. “ The counsel for the 
accused has no further questions to ask this 
witness.” 

The court desired nothing further, and Cap- 
tain Barton entered to give his testimony as 
Douglas left the room and turned back to camp. 


254 


A PLEBE 


“ It’s all out, Rory,” said he. “ I’m 
sorry, but I couldn’t help it. I had to tell 
the whole story before the court and every 
one on the post will know about it, just as 
MacGregor predicted. There will be war to 
the death between me and Jack.” 

As Douglas thus half jocosely referred to 
the future, he little dreamed of the kind of 
warfare that his hostile classmate was prepar- 
ing to wage. 

The whole plebe class was deeply stirred 
and talked of nothing but the court and its 
possible outcome, but ranks formed for dinner 
in the same old way and the only surface 
indication of the troubled state of affairs was 
noticeable when Thorpe fell out on the parade 
ground and took his place in the ranks of the 
guard according to the regulations governing 
men in arrest. The court completed its pro- 
ceedings that afternoon, and all but Thorpe 
realized that there could be but one verdict. 

Drills ran on as usual, hops and band 
concerts came and went, bringing their fleet- 
ing joys, their small heart-aches, and finally 
but three days remained of the life of camp. 
On the 26th of August, drills were suspended 


AT WEST POINT 


255 


and all turned out to decorate camp for the 
illumination and to prepare for the “ Color 
Line Entertainment.” This is a most unique 
performance. 

Pursuant to a time-honored custom, rifles 
had been stacked every morning on the 
parade ground and the colors supported 
horizontally between the stacks at the centre 
of the battalion. An additional relief made 
up of the most soldierly and best equipped 
members of the guard had been selected to 
guard the colors, and Douglas had won the 
honorable distinction of being among the 
first plebes to march the “ Color Line.” 

Upon this honored spot, a platform was 
now being erected upon which a little original 
play was to be enacted, by the cadets setting 
forth the life of the passing camp in a side- 
splitting farce. It came off with great success 
on the night of August 27th, Winslow taking 
the leading r61e as Captain Quilloid, and 
Bobbie MacGregor winning tremendous ap- 
plause as “ Queenie,” a fascinating ballet-girl, 
who makes the captain run camp according 
to her liking. 

Among the advertisements which appeared 


A PLEBE 


256 

upon the programme there was one which 
tickled Douglas immensely. It ran as fol- 
lows : 


“ Femmes that I have known , 

Hearts that I have won , 

Sketches that I wish I hadn't made.” 

By “ Winsome” Winslow. 

“ This work unconsciously leads one deeper 
and deeper into the mysteries of the female 
mind. Beginning with pig-tails and sun- 
bonnets it runs the whole gamut of femininity 
up to the high-heeled shoe and the belladonna 
eye. One cannot but see the handsome and 
talented author struggling with his conscience 
as he passes on from flower to flower.” 

The play was over. The 28th of August 
dawned clear and beautiful, and the plebes 
set to work with renewed energy to complete 
the preparations for illumination that night, 
the last night of plebe camp. 

The furlough class was to return to duty at 
twelve o’clock, after their two months’ absence, 
and it was partially as a compliment to them 
that the work was done. The streets were 
hung with Japanese lanterns and decorated 
with all the natural scenic effects that the 


AT WEST POINT 


2 57 

beautiful hills could produce, and when the 
furlough men assembled with great huzzas in 
front of the library, the whole camp had 
been converted into a sylvan retreat to greet 
their return. 

A half hour later, the gallant fellows had 
doffed their “ cits ” and donned the gra}% 
and were marching back to camp. It was 
the custom many years ago for the upper 
classmen to rush the sentinels’ posts and greet 
their returning comrades on the open plain, 
but within recent years the strictest orders 
had been issued against such contempt for 
discipline, and the second class was therefore 
received most heartily, but within the limits 
of camp. 

The faces of many were pale and house- 
white, in striking contrast with the bronzed 
and blistered skin of the camp-men. The 
yearlings gazed upon them with envious eyes 
and grudgingly stepped back into the rear 
rank to give place to the second class privates 
who now swelled the company to more than 
one hundred strong when the ranks formed 
for dinner. 

Pursuant to an order published the preced- 


A PLEBE 


258 

ing night, all acting sergeants of the first class 
had been returned to the grade of private, 
and the cadet officers of the first and the third 
classes had been rearranged in rank according 
to the merit they had shown during the en- 
campment. Swayne had advanced three files 
in rank, and now stood second on the list of 
corporals and right in line for a first-sergeantcy 
in the coming June. An extra lieutenant had 
been added to each company to meet the 
needs of interior discipline in barracks, and 
old faithful McLane had won his chevrons at 
last, after three years of strenuous bracing and 
exemplary conduct, and his place was filled 
by Townsend, the dashing young first-sergeant, 
who was now calling his roll from memory 
with a speed and finish that indicated many 
private rehearsals in the lone woods while on 
furlough. Even Douglas had something for 
which to be thankful, for by the new arrange- 
ment of the company, Bobbie MacGregor had 
been placed in the rear rank and between him 
and Jackson. To Douglas the music sounded 
more martial, the atmosphere seemed more 
bracing as the enlarged battalion swung across 
Post No. 6 en route to the Mess Hall. The 


AT WEST POINT 


259 


end of camp was at hand. The great mental 
test was to begin on the first of September. 

During the afternoon, the finishing touches 
were put upon the preparations for illumina- 
tion, and at 5 p. m. the battalion formed for 
full-dress parade. The visitors’ seats were 
thronged with spectators, all eager to see the 
furloughmen in ranks once more, and to 
watch the new “ makes ” and second class 
officers performing their duties for the first 
time. 

The manual was ragged, the halts and dress- 
ings were poor, and the plebes felt proud 
indeed of their superiority over the second 
classmen, for two and one-half months of fur- 
lough will destroy the speed and mar the 
finish of the best manualists in the battalion. 

“ Publish the orders,” said Captain Barton, 
tossing the words somewhat impatiently over 
his shoulder to Cadet Adjutant Starring, upon 
completion of the manual. 

The latter moved forward with that even 
and matchless tread which so many lower 
classmen had vainly attempted to imitate, and 
halted half-way between the officer in charge 
and the centre of the line. 


260 


A PLEBE 


“ Attention to orders ! ” came his clear, bell- 
like voice, and his sword shot up to his left 
shoulder, rotated about his thumb, and 
descended with a flash into his scabbard. 

“ That means a long list,” mused Douglas 
as his eyes followed the movements of “ Venus 
Starr,” the pride of the corps. 

Unbuttoning one shining bell-button on his 
chest, Starring drew out a roll of orders, and 
his voice floated out from flank to flank of 
the long line as with great rapidity and clear- 
ness, he read the official documents. 

First came the orders to break camp the 
following day, and march back to barracks in 
column of platoons. A number of com- 
munications of minor importance followed, 
and then came the order which closed the 
history of a turbulent plebe camp. Thorpe 
listened, stolid as an Egyptian sphinx, as 
Starring read as follows : 

Headquarters of the Army , Adjutant 
General's Office , 

Washington, August 26, 189 - . 
General Orders , No. — , 

Before a general court-martial convened at 
West Point, New York, pursuant to Special 


AT WEST POINT 


261 


Orders, No. — , United States Military Acad- 
emy, West Point, New York, August 15, 
189-, and of which Captain James F. 
McCauley, — th Infantry, was president, and 
Lieut. Claude E. Wheaton, Artillery Corps, 
was judge advocate, was arraigned and 
tried — 

Cadet John G. Thorpe, Third Class, United 
States Military Academy. 

Here followed the long list of charges and 
specifications upon which Thorpe had been 
tried, and then the latter held his breath 
and hung upon the adjutant's words : 

To which charge the accused Cadet John G. 
Thorpe, Third Class, United States Military 
Academy, pleaded as follows : 

To the 1st Specification, “ Not Guilty." 

To the 2d Specification, “ Not Guilty." 

To the 3d Specification , “ Not Guilty." 

To the Charge, “ Not Guilty." 


Finding. 

Of the 1st Specification , “ Guilty." 
Of the 2d Specification, “ Guilty." 
Of the 3d Specification, “ Guilty." 
Of the Charge, “ Guilty." 


262 


A PLEBE 


Sentence. 

And the court does therefore sentence him, 
Cadet John G. Thorpe, Third Class, United 
States Military Academy, “ To be dismissed from 
the service of the United States ” 


The record of the proceedings in the fore- 
going case having been forwarded to the 
Secretary of War for the action of the Presi- 
dent the following are his orders thereon : 

White House, August 24, 189- 

The sentence in the case of Cadet John G. 
Thorpe, Third Class, United States Military 
Academy, is confirmed. 

William McKinley. 
By command of Major General Miles : 

H. C. Corbin, 
Adjutant General . 

Starring folded the official documents that 
had severed Thorpe’s connection with the 
United States Military Academy, and thrust 
them into the front of his dress-coat. Then 
his sword flashed once more in the air, and in 
the same calm, unimpassioned tones with 
which he had read the death sentence of a 


AT WEST POINT 263 

lifetime ambition, he published the verbal 
orders of the day. 

The companies passed in review, the 
spectators rendered their homage to the proud 
old flag, and Thorpe marched in the gray- 
clad ranks for the last time. That night he 
bade good-bye to his friends, crossed the 
plain at 7 p. m., and descended the road to the 
railroad station. 

Lying in his tent and watching beneath the 
tent-flaps, Jackson laughed as he saw him 
disappear. 


CHAPTER XIII 


AN ACADEMIC FAILURE 

The bugle pealed out a long call that 
floated through camp, and each cadet jumped 
to his appointed tent-pole, or laid hold of the 
ropes which held the tent at its corners. A 
tap of the drum and these ropes dropped ; 
the tent-flaps fell together, and as the next 
tap sounded, the white canvas homes which 
had sheltered the corps of cadets for the 
summer of 189-, came down together with a 
crash. 

“ Out with the tent-poles, Rory, quick, 
hang fast to the ridge-pole, Jacques/’ urged 
Douglas, as he sprang over the fallen tent, for 
there was a keen rivalry between the com- 
panies as to which could dismantle and fold 
up tentage according to regulations in the 
shortest time, and B Company was determined 
to win. 

“ Over with it, Rory,” shouted Douglas, as 
he flung the heavy canvas across the floor, 

264 


AT WEST POINT 265 

snapped out the flaps, and got his first fold 
perfectly and well in advance of every other 
plebe in the company ; “ come on boys, work 
hard, we’ve got to win.” 

Jacques was slow and clumsy as well as 
woefully unenthusiastic, but Douglas and 
Roderick made up for all his defects, and 
within a minute and a half after the last tap 
of the drum, they had their tentage folded 
and were standing in front of the tent- 
floor. 

“ Assemble ! ” commanded Townsend, the 
first sergeant, when the last man had com- 
pleted his work, and as the company rushed 
around him, he gave the signal for the corps 
yell. One hundred lusty throats roared out 
the call with an appropriate termination as 
token of the company’s victory : — “ Rah, rah, 
ray ; rah, rah, ray ; West Point, West Point, 
Armee ; ray, ray, ray ; U. S. M. A., West 
Point, B Company, B Company, B Com- 
pany!” 

One by one the other companies followed 
and took up the yell, and then the whole bat- 
talion formed line upon the parade ground, 
and under the command of the commandant 


266 


A PLEBE 


of cadets, the corps marched away to the 
stirring notes of a medley consisting of “ The 
Girl I Left Behind Me,” “ Put Me Off at Buf- 
falo,” etc., etc. 

Camp, with its joys and sorrows, its hopes 
and disappointments, its triumphs and de- 
feats, was a thing of the past, and one year of 
supreme mental effort was opening on the 
plebe class of 190- 

Rooms had already been chosen, by the 
upper classmen according to official and class 
rank ; by the plebes, according to their alpha- 
betical order, thus giving Douglas first choice 
among the members of his company. 

“ Let’s go back to the old division in which 
we started out as ‘ beasts,’ Douglas,” said 
Roderick, as the two friends talked it over in 
their tent. “ Jacques was not one of the 
original herd in that division, but we can bit 
him, and saddle him, and make him bridle- 
wise in a short time if he gets well up into 
his collar and doesn’t lay back on his breech- 
ing ; we won’t hold anything against him for 
lack of ancestral history.” So it was agreed 
that the three young friends should remain 
together in barracks, and pursuant to this 


AT WEST POINT 267 

agreement they now found themselves in the 
left-hand area room, on the top floor of the 
fourth division. The unusually large size of 
the plebe class made it necessary, in some 
cases, for the plebes to live three in a room, 
and though Douglas could have avoided this, 
he preferred to suffer the inconvenience rather 
than part with Jacques. An additional bunk, 
a chair, and a table represented all of the lat- 
ter’s exclusive effects, for the rest of the furni- 
ture was common property. 

The room opposite was occupied by two 
yearlings, Bobbie MacGregor and “ Wafer ” 
Bell, while the objectionable plain rooms with 
their northern exposure, and the noisy ground 
floor, were assigned to the plebes. The second 
and third floors were occupied by the first and 
second classes, Littlefield, the subdivision 
inspector, occupying the room immediately 
beneath that of Douglas. 

“ Here come the wagons with our stuff from 
camp,” said Douglas as he thrust his rifle in 
the gun-rack, and glanced through the win- 
dow. “ Let’s get into blouses and haul it up 
right away ; I’m anxious to put the room in 
order.” 


268 


A PLEBE 


They had already carried all breakable 
articles across to barracks on stretchers, and 
the bunks were stacked high with the disor- 
dered heaps of clothing. 

“ I s’pose we’ve got to go, Jacques,” said 
Roderick with a sigh. “ I wanted to lie off a 
little bit and talk it over, but Dug. will be 
hopping around here like a hen on a hot 
griddle till the job’s done, so come on.” 

Together the three happy boys rushed down 
the four flights of iron stairs, and in a few 
minutes they had added more disorder to the 
already disordered room. Before midday, 
however, everything was in its appointed 
place. Underclothing, collars and cuffs, belts, 
gloves, etc., were neatly packed with folded 
edges out in the clothes-press ; overcoat, rain- 
coat, dress-coat, blouses, trousers, gymnasium 
suit, night-clothes, and clothes-bag, exactly 
in the order named, were hanging from front 
to rear along the sides of the alcove, and to 
hang an article on an unauthorized hook was 
to invite demerits and punishment. Jacques 
was allowed three pegs in each alcove. Bed- 
ding was folded once more as taught in “ beast 
barracks ” ; forage caps were hung on pegs 


AT WEST POINT 269 

projecting from the sides of the clothes-press, 
while full-dress hats rested over the muzzle 
of the rifles on the top of the gun-rack shelf. 
Separate cardboards, bearing the names “ At- 
well/' “ O'Connor/' and “ Bruyard," were 
nailed to the horizontal cross pieces above the 
alcoves, and upon the gun-racks, etc., to fix 
the responsibility of each man for his own 
effects. 

“ I'll take orderly for the first week," said 
Douglas, as he slipped the card bearing his 
name into the receptacle on the front face 
of the partition wall of the alcove, and seized 
a broom to sweep up the refuse. 

Rory sank into a chair with a sigh of relief, 
hoisted his heels to the top of the table, and 
sat cracking jokes while Douglas swept and 
dusted the room until the most exacting in- 
spector could have found no speck of dirt 
within it. 

The room with its bare floor, and its plain, 
unadorned walls, was stoic in its simplicity, 
but after the hard, rough life in camp, the 
nights on guard in the pouring rain, it seemed 
palatial indeed to the enthusiastic plebes. 

“ The thing I enjoy most about it," said 


270 


A PLEBE 


Rory, “ is the fact that all hazing ceases in 
barracks, for we are supposed to have a big 
enough contract on our hands to attend to 
our studies, and so have the upper classmen 
for that matter. They are not supposed to 
visit our rooms or to hold us responsible for 
any mistakes we make except in ranks. For 
that I’m duly thankful, but looking back 
upon it, I think the experience did me a lot 
of good. Strange to say, some of the year- 
lings in camp thought that I was B.J., and 
that an all- wise Providence had especially 
detailed them to take it out of me. Their 
labors may bear great fruit at some future 
date, but up to the present they have not 
secured a square return for their efforts.” 

Thus a happy, leisure^ morning passed, 
and the drums rattled off the first call for 
dinner. 

“ Quite a drop for you, old Bamboo,” 
chuckled Rory, as he and Douglas walked 
down-stairs. “ Last time you formed in the 
area of barracks you were the chesty right 
guide of the plebe class, and now you are 
doing gymnastic feats trying to keep from 
tramping on the heels of the bow-legged 


AT WEST POINT 


271 

second classman who is your front-rank 
file.” 

It was a trying ordeal to Douglas, for 
Dame Nature had expended all her arts on 
Jenkin’s brains to the disadvantage of his 
legs. He stood one file from the mental top 
of his class, but in the matter of physique 
he was the least favored member of the 
corps. 

All were in excellent spirits. The Mess 
Hall rang with conversation and the merry 
clink of the dishes, and the plebes enjoyed 
the new privileges to which they had now 
fallen heir. 

Thorpe had gone, and only a few of his 
favored coterie expressed a regret. He had 
persistently opposed the best element of his 
class, and by his reckless disregard of their 
admonitions had brought the whole corps 
into a disrepute and disfavor with the 
authorities which was not at all merited. 

All this was in the past, and it was now 
necessary to face the problems of the future, 
so the absorbing subject of conversation was 
the coming term in the Academic Depart- 
ments with its trials and rewards, its burdens 


2j2 A PLEBE 

and its final goal for which all were striving 
so faithfully. 

“The fourth class will turn out at two 
o’clock to draw text-books at the cadet store,” 
said Cadet Captain Godwin, as the battalion 
halted in line in front of barracks after return 
from dinner. “ The third class will follow at 
4 p. m., and the first and second classes will 
receive their books to-morrow.” 

It was an awe-inspiring pile that greeted 
Douglas as he stepped up to the counter in 
response to the call of his name : — C. Smith’s 
Algebra, Phillip’s and Fisher’s Geometry, 
William’s Composition and Rhetoric, Abbott’s 
How to Write Clearly, Meikeljohn’s English 
Language, Roget’s Thesaurus of English 
Words, and Smith’s Synonyms Discriminated. 

With the exception of the last two, which 
were books of reference, all these must be 
mastered with thoroughness in four brief 
months. Douglas hurried back to his room 
and sat down at once to examine the opening 
pages of his geometry. No lesson for the 
first day had as yet been announced, but 
when Roderick returned and tossed his books 
on the table, Douglas was still intently ab- 


AT WEST POINT 


2 73 


sorbed in his subject. He did not leave it for 
the entire afternoon, and parade that night 
found him with stupidly aching head and 
only five pages properly prepared for recita- 
tion. 

Immediately after the return of the bat- 
talion from supper, he returned to his room, 
and here Rory found him hard at work when 
he ascended twenty minutes later. 

“ You’re not going to study to-night, are 
you, Dug.? ” said he persuasively. 

“ I think so,” said Douglas as he rose from 
the difficult task and passed his hand wearily 
across his brows as he gazed out of the 
window toward the guard-house where the 
first relief was already forming to go on post. 
Swayne was on guard, and as the bugle pealed 
out the call to quarters, he marched his relief 
across the area of barracks and posted 
sentinels in the halls on the first floor. 

“ The sentinels will make an inspection of 
rooms in ten minutes,” said Roderick, “ and 
after that we will have release from quarters 
until half past nine. We are at liberty to go 
anywhere we like in barracks, so Jacques 
and I are going over to Karl Krumms’ house 


274 


A PLEBE 


for a little plebe musical. I think you’d 
better put up your books and come along.” 

But Douglas declined, and a half hour 
later, when Bobbie MacGregor pushed open 
his door, “ the plebe ” was still pounding 
away at his task. 

“ Put up your books, Mr. Atwell,” said 
Bobbie with an air of incontrovertible author- 
ity, “ you will have all day to-morrow to 
bone 1 that lesson, and to-night you ought to 
go out among your classmates and have a good 
time. If you keep that up you’ll w T ork your 
head off and won’t have any brains left when 
the skirmish opens with your instructor. I’ve 
been a goat in everything, Mr. Atwell, and 
I’ve butted my way through more exams, than 
any other man in the corps, and I know what 
I am talking about. The best thing for you 
to do is to drop that geometry and go out for 
a little jollification with your friends — go and 
see Mr. Jackson. At the end of the week,” 
concluded Bobbie, “ come around and report 
your progress to me. I take a paternal inter- 
est in the welfare of my extra-duty man in 
camp.” 

1 Bone : A cadet equivalent of the word “ study.’ ’ 


AT WEST POINT 


275 


Bobbie tossed off the advice with an air of 
good-natured and pompous superiority, and 
then closed the door and went rolling down 
the hall, whistling a lively tune. He had 
weathered the gale in many a fierce academic 
storm, and felt full confidence in his ability 
to steer clear of shoals for the rest of his course. 

Douglas followed the suggestions, for the 
pages he had already mastered ought to cover 
the first lesson. It certainly was a joyous 
feeling to throw all cares aside and enjoy per- 
fect freedom from restraint after two months 
of plebe camp. 

“ All right, sir,” he reported to the sentinel 
on the first floor as he left the door, and this 
meant, upon his honor, that he would take 
no undue advantage of the authority to be 
absent from his room. 

It was a jolly gathering of enthusiastic 
plebes, and Douglas with his jew’s-harp was 
received with acclamations of delight. At the 
first rattle of tattoo, the party broke up and 
all three friends returned to their room. 

“ Douglas,” said Roderick as he lit the gas, 
“some one has been here while we were 
gone. That box of matches has been opened 


276 A PLEBE 

— yes, here are the remnants of the burned 
match.” 

Douglas started. His mind instantly leaped 
back to that night in barracks when he re- 
turned to his room and found a half-burned 
match lying in his alcove beside his traveling- 
bag, one strap of which appeared to have been 
tampered with. Instinctively he felt a con- 
nection between these incidents and the dis- 
trust and disfavor which some of his classmates 
had shown him in camp, but nothing had as 
yet occurred to justify a definite conclusion. 

“ Look around the room and see if you have 
lost anything,” said Roderick. “ This seems 
queer.” 

“ I have nothing to lose,” said Douglas. 

“ Nor I,” said Jacques yawning, as he sat 
on the edge of his bed and softly strummed 
his beloved guitar. 

A search of the room failed to reveal the 
character of the visitor or to disclose the ob- 
ject of his visit, and the matter was soon 
dropped. 

“ Probably some friend from another div. 
trying to get a few of us together,” suggested 
Rory, and five minutes after taps he was 


AT WEST POINT 


2 77 


sleeping soundly ; but Douglas lay awake for 
a long time, and though his mind strove to 
see no connection between that night in June 
in beast barracks and this night of August 
30th, yet when he finally slept, he dreamed 
that he saw Jackson stealthily lighting his gas. 

At breakfast the next morning the section- 
rolls were published, dividing the class alpha- 
betically into ten sections for the department 
of mathematics, and into twelve sections for 
the department of languages, and in each case, 
Douglas Atwell was, by virtue of his alpha- 
betical rank, assigned to the first section. 

“ The lesson goes to article 38, page 20 in 
geometry, and to page 14 in English/’ said 
Adamson, the section-marcher of both the 
sections, after his return from the office of the 
officer in charge at two that afternoon. 

Douglas gasped. The lesson was nearly 
three times as long in both subjects as he had 
expected. 

“ You attend math, from 8 a. m. until 9 : 30 
A. m., and English from 2 p. m. to 3 p. m.” 

There was no time to lose. Douglas seized 
the tin frame on the mantel containing a card 
marked “ Hours of Instruction,” and recorded 


A PLEBE 


278 

on an adjustable slip, according to regulations, 
the hours at which he would be absent from 
his room. Then he resumed his interrupted 
study with Jacques seated on the opposite 
side of the table, but with Rory still absent 
and heedless of the consequences. 

That night all was still in barracks, whereas 
on the preceding night each floor had its jolly 
assembly of friends. Now the only sound 
that disturbed the perfect stiliness was that of 
the sentinel’s tread as he slowly walked his 
post in the lower hall of barracks. 

Roderick had finished his lesson in an hour, 
but he carefully concealed the ease with which 
he mastered his subject in the presence of his 
less favored roommates. Only when taps 
sounded did Douglas turn out the gas and 
spring into bed, answering “ all in, sir,” as 
Littlefield, the subdivision inspector, flashed 
his bull’s-eye lantern upon the bunks. The 
untrained boy had barely covered the lesson 
in geometry, and as yet had not opened his 
text-book in English. 

The battalion returned from breakfast the 
next morning at 7:10 a. m. and Douglas 
greedily seized upon the opportunity of put- 


AT WEST POINT 


279 

ting the remaining moments upon his lesson. 
At eight minutes to eight, the first call 
sounded for formation of the sections, and 
with pale face and nervous fingers, Douglas 
descended to the stone walk in front of bar- 
racks, where two months before he had stood 
with equal anxiety as a friendless candidate. 

“ Form your sections,” commanded the cadet 
officer of the day as the clock in the great 
tower of the Academic Building began to toll 
the hour of eight. The assembly sounded ; 
the cadets stepped into ranks, each man with 
his appointed section, and the section-marchers 
stepped out in front and called the roll. 
The formation was in two lines, the upper 
classmen on the asphalt walk in front, the 
plebes in the rear on the stone walk along the 
porch of barracks. 

“ Report,” commanded the officer of the day, 
and beginning at the left of the line the sec- 
tion-marchers, facing to the front, saluted and 
reported, “ All are present, sir,” or “ Cadet 
So-and-So is absent, sir.” Then the sections 
faced to the left and marched away under the 
command of their section-marchers. Silent, 
erect, in perfect cadence, as if proceeding to 


280 


A PLEBE 


drill, the first, second, and third classes 
marched across the area of barracks, and be- 
hind them the plebes entered the Academic 
Building, where they were to undergo the final 
test of fitness for the military service. 

“ Section, halt ! Fall out ! ” commanded 
Adamson as he arrived opposite Room No. 
213 on the second floor. Hats were hung in 
the hall, and with solemn, awe-struck faces, 
the plebes filed into the section-room, and stood 
at attention, each behind his proper desk. 
Lieutenant Drummond, the instructor, rose as 
Adamson followed his section into the room, 
closed the door, and saluting, reported, “ All 
are present, sir.” 

“ Take your seats, and mark down the les- 
son for the next recitation,” said the lieutenant 
with a wave of his hand toward the black- 
board behind him. 

Douglas flushed as he read the notation 
upon it : “ To page 19, algebra.” All this 

was to be mastered in about two and one 
half hours ! He had spent nearly seven hours 
upon the first lesson in geometry, yet every 
nerve in his body was a-quiver lest he should 
fail upon his recitation. 


AT WEST POINT 281 

ji Any questions on the lesson ? ” asked the 
instructor, but the plebes were silent. 

“ Mr. Adamson.” 

The big section-marcher stepped in front of 
the desk and stood at attention. 

“ Go to the board and discuss the funda- 
mental definitions, and state the general 
axioms of plane geometry.” 

“ Kentuck ” walked to his place, wrote his 
name in the upper right-hand corner of his 
board, and at once began his work. One by 
one the members of the section received their 
verbal instructions, and Douglas’ heart was 
pounding furiously when he was called for 
the last front board. It was the very part of 
the lesson about which he knew the least. 

He wrote his name in his beautiful style, 
and then for several minutes stood helpless, 
unable to put a word or figure upon the board. 
In semi-comprehension of the instructor’s 
meaning, he had heard the enunciation of the 
subject, but now he could fix neither begin- 
ning nor end. A blurred image of words and 
formulae floated before his mind’s eye, like an 
army passing in the darkness of night, but 
the character of the units, the intent and 


282 


A PLEBE 


purpose of their being, were beyond his 
vision. 

The voice of the instructor startled him and 
increased the feeling of panic within him. 
“ That will do,” Lieutenant Drummond was 
saying as he finished questioning the three 
members of the section who had not been 
called for recitation, “ solve these problems at 
the boards. Mr. Adamson, I will hear you 
now.” 

Twenty minutes had passed since the ar- 
rival of the section, and Adamson, the first 
man to the board, was expected to be ready 
for recitation. The others must respond in 
their turn, and all must be finished within the 
appointed hour and one half. 

Adamson took down the pointer which 
hung on a nail beside the board, and faced 
about, placing himself on the side of the 
board farthest away from the centre of the 
room. 

“ Take the pointer in your hand nearest 
the board, Mr. Adamson,” said the instructor. 
“ Now go ahead.” The plebe had success- 
fully complied with all his instructions ex- 
cept one. 


AT WEST POINT 283 ' 

“ I am required to discuss the fundamental 
definitions and to state the general axioms of 
plane geometry,” said Adamson in his clear, 
certain tones, and then without the slightest 
hesitation he proceeded to his subject. He 
finished an excellent recitation, took his seat, 
and Addison began to stagger through an ill- 
prepared task, while Douglas still gazed hope- 
lessly at his bare board. 

At last a portion of his subject flashed into 
his mind, and with trembling fingers he 
hurried down the work. It was exquisitely 
neat and methodical, but only one-tenth of 
the subject was covered. One by one the 
minutes passed, and Douglas could hear the 
clock-ticks sounding like the strokes of a 
sledge hammer when Jacques was called at 
fifteen minutes before the termination of the 
allotted time. “ Keep glued to the board 
like a postage stamp, if you don’t know your 
subject, and may be you’ll bugle 1 it,” Bobbie 
MacGregor had counseled, and it looked as if 
he might now escape the humiliation of a 
failure. 

J A cadet it said “to bugle it” when the bugle sounds the 
termination of the hour and he is dismissed without reciting. 


A PLEBE 


284 

Jacques floundered badly in his enuncia- 
tion, and seemed to be somewhat listed to- 
ward the blackboard by the weight of his 
pointer. Finally he satisfied the instructor 
that he knew what he was trying to dis- 
cuss and then Jacques turned to his sub- 
ject. 

“ Let this yeah be a pa’llel right line,” said 
he at last, and then paused. 

“ A parallel right line, Mr. Bruyard,” said 
Lieutenant Drummond, leaning forward. 
“ What is it parallel to ? ” 

“’Tain’t pa’llel to nothin’. It’s jest pa’llel, 
sah,” blurted Jacques, with a face so sober 
and earnest that his sincerity could not 
be doubted, though his mathematics and 
grammar left something to be desired. 

Not a man smiled. Jacques’ “ pa’llel line 
that wasn’t pa’llel to nothin’ ” was received 
by every member of the section with as much 
respect and decorum as would have been ac- 
corded the most brilliant deduction in Euclid. 
Two months’ discipline in plebe camp had 
borne its desired fruit. 

Jacques failed miserably, and as he took his 
seat, with four minutes left before dismissal 





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AT WEST POINT 285 

of the section, Douglas was called upon for 
recitation. 

In spite of his anxiety, he was cool and 
collected, his language good, his bearing be- 
yond reproach, but in less than one minute 
he had exhausted his knowledge of the sub- 
ject. 

“ Is that all you know, Mr. Atwell ? ” said 
Lieutenant Drummond. 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ How much time did you put on this 
lesson ? ” 

“ More than seven hours, sir,” said Douglas, 
flushing painfully. 

The instructor looked up with an expres- 
sion of astonishment. “That will do,” said 
he, “ the section is dismissed.” 

Without a word the section marched out of 
the Academic Building by the south exit and 
broke ranks in the area of barracks, while 
the second half of the plebe class marched 
through the northern entrance for their first 
trial. 

In his official record-book of daily results, 
Lieutenant Drummond entered the following 
marks: Adamson, 2.9 ; Addison 2.1 ; . 


286 


A PLEBE 


Bruyard .5; Atwell 1.0. On this scale, 3 
represented a perfect recitation, and he who 
had not made an average of 2 for the entire 
course would be rated deficient, and would be 
turned out for examination in which failure 
meant discharge from the military academy. 

Douglas was one unit deficient on his first 
recitation, but he spent no time in vain re- 
grets at his failure, but rather set to work 
with great energy upon his lesson in English 
as soon as he reached his room. 

The experience gained in his first recita- 
tion was of great advantage, and he now 
carefully scanned his subject for the natural 
stopping points and noted the organization 
and sequence of the sub-heads. Moreover, 
he was by nature an easy and fluent talker, 
and he found little natural difficulty with the 
subject, though his lack of early preparation 
made the technical features very difficult. 

At two o’clock, Douglas again marched 
away to the section-room, but when the 
section was dismissed an hour later, he had 
made a fair recitation, though he had spent 
only two hours and a half upon his subject. 

“ How did you get along, old man ? ” asked 


AT WEST POINT 287 

Rory as lie bounded up-stairs a few moments 
after four o’clock. 

“ I made proficient, I think,” said Douglas, 
“ and Jacques maxed 1 it cold. He’ll have no 
trouble in that department, but we’ll both go 
to the goats in math.” 

“ You got along all right, I’m sure,” said 
Rory enthusiastically as he laid his hand 
affectionately on Douglas’ shoulder. “ Go 
right at it every day as hard as you can and 
you’ll come out all right.” 

The first call for drill was sounding in the 
area of barracks, and the three young men 
slipped on their trimmings, picked up their 
rifles, and joined their comrades in front of 
barracks. Every plebe was talking about his 
experience in the section-room, and Jacques’ 
“ pa’llel right line ” had already gone down 
to history. All conversation was cut short 
by the assembly, and fifteen minutes after the 
termination of the last recitation in the 
Academic Building, the whole battalion was 
executing the first maneuvre of battalion 
drill. 

Douglas knew every feature of the drill and 

1 “To max it cold ” : To receive a perfect mark on a recitation. 


288 


A PLEBE 


it required no brain energy to follow the com- 
mands with fidelity. To him it was a neces- 
sary and interesting relaxation from the great 
mental strain of the day — the tonic without 
which the corps of cadets could never ac- 
complish its rigorous academic course. 

Drill was followed by full-dress parade. 
The line was now formed on the beautiful 
grass plain in front of the superintendent’s 
quarters, and upon the completion of the cere- 
mony, the companies passed in review in 
double time, coming to a walk only as they 
reached the entrance to the north sally-port. 

After the publication of the delinquency 
list, the battalion once more changed uniform, 
and in blouses and white trousers marched 
away to supper. It was 6:45 p. m. when the 
meal was over and Captain Godwin halted his 
command in the road north of barracks, and 
then stood in front of the centre. This was 
the termination of the last military function 
of the day, but the preparations for the next 
day’s ordeal must begin at once and continue 
with unabated energy until taps at 10 p. m. 
Before dismissing the battalion, it is customary 
to publish small official matters that have not 


AT WEST POINT 289 

been furnished the adjutant at parade, or to 
make necessary but unofficial announcements, 
and Godwin’s voice now rolled out in deep, 
resonant tones from flank to flank : “ Some 

one has exchanged hats with Mr. Speedwell. 
He would like to see the man who has his im- 
mediately after breaking ranks. 

“ Mr. Storms of the fourth class lost a valu- 
able gold ring shortly after moving into bar- 
racks. t The ring was apparently taken from 
his room. Mr. Knox of the second class lost 
a watch-fob the same day in exactly the same 
manner. A number of valuable articles were 
lost in camp under circumstances which seem 
to indicate that all were taken by the same 
method. A well-founded suspicion is growing 
as to how these articles were lost, and all per- 
sons having information of any kind which 
would tend to clear up the matter, should call 
at my rooms or in my absence at Mr. Star- 
ring’s quarters. 

“ Dismiss your companies.” 

“ Dismissed ! ” commanded the first ser- 
geants in chorus, and the erect, silent line 
broke into a mass of shouting, talking, jostling 
youths who rushed in all directions toward 


290 


A PLEBE 


barracks. Douglas and Roderick drew out of 
the human maelstrom and stood leaning on 
the iron rails just outside the north sally-port 
as the crowd passed. A beautiful purple hue 
hung upon the landscape, and the two young 
men gazed upon the scene in silent admira- 
tion. Two cadets were talking in a low tone 
in the sally-port, and at first their voices made 
no impression on our young friends, but there 
was something in the hiss and spite of the 
tone which startled Douglas to sudden atten- 
tion. 

“ It’s fine, Storms, it’s exhilarating,’’ said 
the speaker vehemently. “ The plan is work- 
ing out like a formula in math.; but how did 
he come out to-day in the section-room? ” 

“ Just made it on a scratch in English, they 
say, but fessed out cold in math. — didn’t 
make five-tenths, and then whimpered to the 
instructor that he had boned the lesson for 
seven hours. Ha, ha, ha ! ” 

“ Good. He won’t last long. He has had 
me cut and despised by the whole corps, but 
the general court fixed one of his kind, and I 

1 “ To fess out cold ” : To make a complete failure on a reci- 
tation. 


AT WEST POINT 291 

will never rest till I send him on the same 
road as Thorpe.” 

Rory seized Douglas by the arm and dragged 
him along as he stepped into the sally-port. 
At the sound of their footsteps, Jackson and 
Storms jumped as if burned by an electric 
shock. 

“ Hello, Storms, old boy,” shouted Rory 
vociferously as he passed on with Douglas 
into the area of barracks. “ What’s the mat- 
ter? You look as if some one had bitten 
your dog.” 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE FIRST LINE-UP 

Deficient in mathematics, and eight-tenths 
above proficient in English ! 

This was Cadet Douglas Atwell’s record for 
the first week of his academic career. He had 
made 6.9 out of 12 in the first subject and 8.8 
out of the same maximum in the other. The 
battalion had just returned from dinner on the 
Saturday of the first week in barracks, and 
the plebes were crowding eagerly about the 
cases in the hall of the Academic Building 
where the reports of the daily marks were 
posted. Now, for the first time, each man 
knew the value set by the military academy 
upon his mental worth. 

“ And I am deficient, Rory,” said Douglas 
as he leaned wearily against the wall, and 
gazed at Lieutenant Drummond’s weekly 
report. There was the record of each day’s 
work : 1.0, 2.1, 1.5, 2.3. Judged by exactly 
the same standards, Adamson had made 11.3, 

292 


AT WEST POINT 


293 

Addison 8.2, etc., while Jacques had a total 
of but 6.1. 

“ There are only ten men in the class who 
made lower marks than I,” continued Douglas 
despairingly, “ and poor old Jacques is one of 
them. If we continue this way, he will land 
in the goats, and I in the section just above.” 

“ Never mind, Douglas,” said Roderick, 
“ the results of only four days’ work mean 
mighty little. No one is on his mettle yet, 
and as soon as you become accustomed to, tiie 
idea, you will get along all right. There were 
some beautiful spurts at the start, but that 
won’t last. The man who does his best every 
minute, who never wavers, never tires, is sure 
to be among the final winners, and I’ll stake 
my bell-buttons that you’ll cross the tape well 
ahead of a big bunch of them at the end of 
plebe year.” 

“ In a foot-race, yes, but never in math.,” 
said Douglas, and the two young friends 
turned away from the record of the first 
week’s work in plebe year, and as they reached 
the door, Jackson entered to inspect his marks. 

“ He made 11.4 in math., and 11.6 in Eng- 
lish,” whispered Roderick, “ which means 


294 


A PLEBE 


the first section in both departments. I never 
expected it ; but that report contains many 
surprises. Big Zeke Shanks was the last man 
in the class whom I suspected of brilliancy, 
but there are only five men who rank him up 
to date. Then I had assigned Jacques to the 
best ten in the class, and here we find him 
five files from the bottom, while little meek- 
eyed Dalton, who was taken for the patriarch’s 
son when we reported, is reeling off first section 
recitations like a professor of mathematics.” 

Throughout the long barracks, as the plebes 
prepared for Saturday afternoon inspection, 
they talked only of the marks they had made, 
and already constructed the first section and 
talked of the goats and the engineers of the 
class, and among the latter, Roderick O’Connor 
always had a place. Only three men in the 
class had scored a more signal triumph than he. 

Some were happy, others grave and nervous, 
while a few were morose and fault-finding, 
and among these was big Jack Storms, who 
strove to explain the eccentricities and defects 
of his instructor who had awarded him a de- 
ficient mark — just one- tenth more than Doug- 
las had received. 


AT WEST POINT 


295 


“ Did you have the same instructor in both 
math, and English ? ” asked one of the plebes 
with a merry twinkle in his eye as the com- 
pany assembled in front of barracks. 

But Storms, who was deficient in both sub- 
jects, declined an answer and fell into ranks 
for inspection with a scowl on his face that 
boded ill for any one who crossed his path. 

The bell-buttons glistened and sparkled in 
the sunlight of a beautiful September after- 
noon as the companies marched across the 
lawn-like plain to their places in line. After 
receiving the salute of the battalion, the com- 
mandant formed column of companies, the 
cadet captains opened ranks, and all was 
ready for the function which marks the close 
of every week in the life of a cadet. 

As Captain Barton approached the company, 
Winslow’s sword flashed up to the salute, and 
then he faced the company with the command, 
“ Inspection arms ! ” 

Each man fixed bayonet, opened his 
cartridge-box, and stood waiting at the 
“ order ” for his turn. 

Passing around the line of cadet officers, 
Captain Barton turned to the right flank of 


A PLEBE 


296 

the front rank, and Jacques tossed his piece 
to “ port arms.” Plis front-rank file was ab- 
sent and he occupied the vacant place in 
ranks. Douglas was well toward the left of 
the rear-rank and at least a half hour must 
elapse before the captain would reach him to 
inspect his rifle. Erect and motionless, he 
stood, his eyes gazing straight to the front at 
the purple-tinted Highlands that lock the 
Hudson in their rugged embrace. Above the 
tree-tops the flag floated from its halyards, a 
silken field of red, white, and blue in a cloud- 
less sky. 

That bit of bunting stood for the inalienable 
rights of man ; it proclaimed the privilege of 
every son of mother earth to struggle for the 
realization of the most exalted hopes, and to 
win the best prizes of life in an open competi- 
tion wherein merit was the only standard. . 

“And according to that standard,” mused 
Douglas, “ I am deficient, and not worthy of 
wearing shoulder-straps beneath the old flag.” 

His chest heaved, his eyes became moist, 
and for a moment despair held him in its 
clutch. Then just over the brow of Trophy 
Point, just above the line of captured cannon, 


AT WEST POINT 


297 


a spar hove into sight which a moment later 
grew into a heavily laden vessel breasting the 
outgoing tide. It was driven by neither steam 
nor sail, but in front of it, obscured by its im- 
mense bulk, lay a little tug-boat whose shrill 
whistle rose above the music of the band, and 
leaped defiantly from crag to crag as it died 
away among the hills. 

Panting, swaying, quivering, the white foam 
rolling in its wake, the little giant seemed en- 
dowed with a superhuman determination to 
conquer its fearful task. As Douglas Atwell 
watched it he was thrilled with the spirit of 
its heroic combat. Up came his rifle to the 
“ port ” as Captain Barton approached tofin- 
spect, and the steel barrel quivered, the 
bayonet rang beneath the fierce clutch of his 
hands. There could be no whimpering in- 
decision, no trembling hesitation, no truckling 
to despair. He would assail his mental task 
with the frantic zeal of the gallant little tug- 
boat, and so surely as the tides and currents 
yielded to its restless effort, so surely would he 
rise superior to the defects and deficiencies of 
his early training. 

“ Close ranks, march ! ” rang out Winslow’s 


A PLEBE 


298 

voice, and the company melted into two com- 
pact lines. 

“ Right shoulder, arms ! ” The rifles rose 
with the precision of the clock-stroke. 

“ Right forward, fours right, march ! ” 

Away marched the column, as if impelled 
by a single will, and never did the roll of the 
drum awaken a more triumphant response in 
Douglas Atwell’s heart than on this, the occa- 
sion of his first academic failure. 

The company was dismissed in front of 
barracks, and twenty minutes later, Douglas 
walked out upon the plain, clad in a brand- 
new football suit which Speedwell had issued 
him the night before. The entire squad was 
out to receive instruction in the fundamental 
principles of the game, and perhaps no class 
in the corps had turned a better representa- 
tion than the plebes. There were Runker, 
Carrington, Pell, Shannon, King, Karl 
Krumms, Roderick, Douglas and Storms. 
Of these Storms was the heaviest, low-set and 
bulky, but lacking the quickness, accuracy, 
and perhaps the courage that are necessary to 
success on the football field. Ever since that 
night in beast barracks when he seconded 


AT WEST POINT 


299 


Jackson in his fight with Douglas, Storms 
had gradually grown more and more hostile in 
his attitude. Unlike Smoke, he had swallowed 
Jackson without a grimace, and seemed to 
prefer the “ plucky Californian ” to any other 
man in the class. Perhaps Jackson’s apparent 
wealth and political connections had some- 
thing to do with his choice ; however that 
might be, they were roommates and insepa- 
rable companions, and judging from the sally- 
port incident, cooperators in a crusade against 
Douglas. And now for the first time, he and 
Storms were thrown into active competition, 
for both were candidates for positions on the 
team. 

There were vacancies at tackle, end and 
half, a chance for a good man at quarter, and 
always room for a star at any position. 

“ Fall in here quickly, men,” said Speed- 
well, “ we’ll have a little practice in falling on 
the ball ; ” and after a few moments’ explana- 
tion of the method, he tossed the oval on the 
grass and shouted, “ after it, Mr. Atwell.” 

Douglas shot forward and plunged at the 
ball, but it bounded from his arms, and he 
sprang to his feet in pursuit. At last he got 


3 °° 


A PLEBE 


it after three hard tries, and returned to his 
place in line, while Rory pinned the ball to 
earth with a quickness that made Speedwell 
laugh with inward joy. 

Karl Krumms bungled badly, and the 
slowness and clumsiness of Storms boded ill 
for his prospects of a place on the team. 
Then followed the catching of punts, and the 
tackling of the dummy, in which Douglas 
“ took to the idea like a young duck to a mill 
pond.” 

“ Out on the plain at a trot, lively,” said 
Speedwell as he led the way from the dummy, 
and in a moment drew up in the open space 
on the plain. “ We’ll line up for individual 
instruction in blocking and breaking the 
line.” 

A large number of cadets and officers had 
gathered on the parade to size up the promis- 
ing plebes and watch the new captain of the 
team in the first instruction to his men. 
Storms had taken his place at tackle, and no 
one occupied the opposing position. 

“ What place are you trying for, Mr. 
Atwell?” asked Speedwell. 

“ Any place, sir, I have no choice.” 


AT WEST POINT 


3 QI 

“ Well then, jump in here at tackle for the 
present.” 

Storms’ face lowered and Douglas’ nerve 
quickened as they faced each other. Down 
crouched the two opposing lines, fingers 
touching the grass, the sharp corks of the 
new shoes pressed deeply into the earth. 

“ Between guard and right tackle,” said 
Speedwell. “ Mr. Atwell, you’ve got to open 
that hole. Get off as the ball is snapped 
back. The halves will advance only to the 
line and will not try to break through. Now, 
get at it with life.” 

Little Swayne, the quarter, crouched be- 
hind the line, his hands extended to receive 
the ball. Douglas drew up his muscles 
tense as steel springs, and as the ball shot 
back, he leaped forward against his opponent. 
As he did so, Storms’ clenched fist shot up- 
ward into his face, but the big plebe rolled 
headlong before his attack, and struggled to 
his feet, stained with the blood he had drawn 
by his vicious blow. 

“ None of that, Mr. Storms,” cried Speed- 
well severely, “ we play a gentleman’s game 
here, and if I see you strike an opponent 


3°2 


A PLEBE 


again I will order you to turn in your 
uniform. Now get down and play like a 
/ man. Your opponent is twenty-five pounds 
lighter than you ; stand up to him.” 

Like a wounded tiger Douglas crouched 
low for the signal to attack, and when it 
came, he was upon his opponent with a fury 
and suddenness which hurled him back out 
of the line like a stone from a catapult. 

“ Stand up to your man, Mr. Storms,” said 
Speedwell sarcastically, “ he’s carrying you 
off the field.” But the next instant Storms 
was picked up on Douglas’ shoulders, driven 
eight feet behind the line and hurled on his 
back with great violence. By this time 
every one on the side-lines recognized the 
personal nature of the struggle, and all eyes 
were on the two excited plebes. Douglas had 
never before played football, but wrestling 
had been the great sport of his early school- 
days, and in daity bouts with the most 
stalwart lads who assembled at the country 
school, he had learned the tricks with which 
he was now defeating Storms. 

The latter got no sympathy from the side- 
lines, for a roar of laughter went up as he 


AT WEST POINT 


3°3 


went down again and again before the attack 
of his lighter opponent, but each time the 
burly plebe jumped to his feet and came 
back swinging his great arms and puffing 
out his cheeks like a bellows. 

Douglas now resolved to vary his tactics, 
and as Storms charged fiercely into the line, 
he sprang aside, clapped his hand to Storms’ 
face, and hurled him sideways and down- 
ward. Storms shot obliquely through the 
line, going on all fours, but his hands could 
not keep pace with his feet, and he lunged 
forward on the side of his face, and actually 
stood on his head. 

Even Jackson laughed as he watched tfe 
ludicrous spectacle, and Storms seemed froth- 
ing with anger as he staggered to his 
feet. 

“ That will do,” said Speedwell, “ scatter 
out and catch punts.” 

“ You’re all right, Storms, old man,” said 
Roderick with mock seriousness as he patted 
the big plebe on the back, “ but you should 
have been coached in hanging onto the grass. 
Next time you get down and take hold of the 
roots with your teeth, and then that little 


3°4 


A PLEBE 


bloody-nosed sand-piper won’t be able to push 
you off the parade ground.” 

Storms could not speak, but as the foot- 
ball squad trotted around the plain that 
afternoon upon completion of practice, his 
resolution to “ lick Douglas Atwell in behalf 
of the interests of his friend, Jackson,” had 
been indefinitely laid upon the table. 

After a plunge, a shower and a rub-down, 
Douglas felt as well as ever, and spick and 
span as for a recitation in the section-room, 
the football men fell into ranks >vith their 
comrades for retreat roll-call. 

Football is a game which the authorities 
heartily encourage as a sport which develops 
all the manly traits of courage and endurance 
so requisite in the army officer, but they will 
not permit the game to interfere with military 
or academic requirements, and so, the cadet 
passes direct from the field to the routine of 
his daily duty. 

It was dusk when the battalion marched 
back from supper, and Godwin announced 
that Speedwell “ desired to see all the foot- 
ball men at the gymnasium immediately after 
breaking ranks.” 


AT WEST POINT 


3°5 


Two minutes later the big group was as- 
sembled about him and eagerly listening to 
his words. 

“ I called you together to-night,” said he, 
“ to announce, especially for the benefit of the 
new men, the conditions under which we 
must play the game at West Point.” 

“ Firstly, I have drawn up a paper in which 
every member of the squad pledges himself to 
abstain from smoking, the eating of sweets, 
and the doing of anything whatsoever which 
might impair his efficiency as a player. 
Every man who intends to remain with the 
squad will sign that paper in my room before 
call to quarters to-morrow evening ; those who 
do not, will turn in their suits. 

“Then, immediately after reveille every 
morning, all members of the squad will as- 
semble at the north sally-port and will run 
with me around the plain. It will take only 
about five minutes and will leave time enough 
to get ready for breakfast^ if your roommates 
will help you with the work. During the 
fifteen or twenty minutes between dinner and 
2 p. m., all are expected to turn out on the 
plain, and catch and kick punts. Every 


A PLEBE 


3°6 

evening between return of the battalion from 
supper and call to quarters, we will assemble 
here to discuss plays and practice signals. 
Finally, every Wednesday afternoon there will 
be regular practice from 4:15 p. m. until a 
quarter to six, but, up to November, this is all 
the time that we will have to train for the 
contests with Yale and Harvard, though we 
will have about two hours every afternoon in 
November to work up form for our champion- 
ship game with the Navy. 

“ Now I realize,” continued Speedwell 
warmly, “ that these are conditions which 
would wreck the prospects of any college team 
that ever went on the gridiron, but they are 
the best that can be had, and we must succeed 
in spite of them. Every man must remember 
that he is not playing for individual honors, 
not for the mere glo^of winning, but that he 
is playing for the United States Military 
Academy. We can afford to be beaten, but we 
can’t afford to soil the reputation of our Alma 
Mater by an unworthy victory.” 

For ten minutes Speedwell held the rapt at- 
tention of his squad, and then amid their cheers 
he stepped down, and the meeting terminated. 


AT WEST POINT 


3°7 


Douglas and Rory left in high spirits, for 
not only were they thoroughly in accord with 
the spirit of the talk, but they realized that 
their chances of playing on the academy team 
before the end of the season were excellent. 

The majority of the squad passed through 
the west sally-port into the area, but Douglas 
and Rory walked along in front of barracks 
and sauntered on toward the end of the Aca- 
demic Building. The bugler was passing out 
upon the plain to sound call to quarters, and 
the two young men had turned to go to their 
room, when Rory seized Douglas by the arm 
and held him fast. 

“ Look,” said he as he pointed to a window 
opening into the basement of the building. 

On the wall of the room below, Douglas 
could see the shadow of a cadet and appar- 
ently that of old Charley, the policeman of 
B Company. The pair were in an animated 
conversation in which the cadet seemed to be 
begging a service and offering to pay the costs, 
for Charley finally appeared to accept a wad 
of money which he placed in his pocket. 

“ Some upper classman trying to get Char- 
ley to drag in a lot of boodle (edibles),” 


A PLEBE 


3°8 

laughed Douglas as he turned away, for the 
light had been suddenly extinguished and he 
did not wish to know who might be involved. 

“ Boodle 1 ” exclaimed Kory, “ that was no 
deal for boodle. Did you recognize the 
cadet ? ” 

“ No,” said Douglas, “ who was it? ” 

Roderick shrugged his shoulders. “ Go 
ahead to your room,” said he, “ and I will be 
up in a few moments.” 

Douglas slowly climbed the stairs wonder- 
ing what had excited his roommate’s interest 
to such an extent, and when the latter came 
up a few minutes later, he went straight to 
the window, waited only until the sentinel had 
inspected, and then left the room. 

Douglas dismissed the matter from his 
mind, at once began a letter home in which 
he related his hopes and his fears, but the pre- 
dominating tone was one of dogged determi- 
nation to succeed at any cost. Then he rose, 
slipped on his trimmings, picked up his rifle 
and went down-stairs. It was his first night 
on guard since he came to barracks, and for- 
tune had placed him on the third relief. 

At 8 : 50 p. m. the corporal fell in the guard, 


AT WEST POINT 


3°9 


and by his place in ranks, Douglas was to 
walk Post No. 4, or the hall of barracks in 
his own division. Unlike this same duty in 
camp, the cadets were not required to walk 
post at all during the day, and for only about 
an hour at night, but even this loss from the 
study hour was a handicap which made the 
guard tour a hated task. Inspections by the 
tactical officers at any hour at night restrained 
the tendency of reckless ones to “ run it out 
of barracks,” and no guard was required after 
9 : 45 p. m. 

A hop was in progress at Cullom Hall, and 
occasionally the strains of a waltz came faintly 
to the sentinel on post. The subdivision was 
quiet and well-nigh empty, and few lights 
shone in the rooms, for the regulations require 
lights to be extinguished whenever a cadet 
leaves his room. 

Douglas noted that Jackson's room, which 
lay on this floor, was dark and the door a 
trifle ajar, and it distinctly occurred to him 
that both Jackson and Storms were absent. 

The cadet officer of the day and the ser- 
geant of the guard both inspected, and both 
asked in a most kindly manner as to his 


3 IO 


A PLEBE 


marks he had made during the past week, 
and then urged him to do his best and never 
despair. “ If you put as much ginger into 
your math, work as you put into football this 
afternoon, you will be all right,” said the lat- 
ter as he withdrew. 

Thus the hour dragged slowly by and as 
tattoo began sounding in the area of barracks, 
Rory entered the division. 

“ All right, sir,” said he, and then hesitated 
on the stairs. “ Has Jackson come in yet? ” 

“ No,” said Douglas, “ how did you know 
he was out ? ” 

Rory smiled and went up-stairs. 

Douglas strolled to the other end of his 
post, and to his utter astonishment a light was 
burning in Jackson’s room, and he could hear 
the low sound of voices within. 


CHAPTER XV 


FAME AND FAILURE 

It was Saturday in the early weeks of Oc- 
tober. 

A clear, beautiful sky bent above the High- 
lands of the Hudson, and the flag stood out 
from its halyards, sharply defined in a field 
of azure blue, in the firm embrace of a breeze 
from the northwest. 

The hills were already red-tinged with the 
first crisp breath of autumn, and the shriveled 
leaves from their slopes were sweeping across 
the parade ground, where ten thousand spec- 
tators had gathered to see the annual football 
game between Yale and West Point. 

The grand stands were packed to their limit, 
the solid cadet gray banked three tiers high 
on the east side of the field, while the blue 
flags of one thousand Yale partisans were un- 
furled to the breeze on the opposite side of the 
arena. From behind the north goal-posts the 
academy band rolled out a crashing march 
3 11 


3 12 


A PLEBE 


which was still reverberating across the field 
when the cadet team in their black and gold 
and gray sweaters sprang over the ropes, and 
trotted out upon the gridiron. 

“ Corps yell for the team,” shouted “ Bud ” 
Marchand as he tossed the academy colors at 
the end of a ramrod and swayed his graceful 
body back and forth in cadence to the yell. 
The hills echoed with the sound — “ Rah, rah, 
ray ; rah, rah, ray ; West Point, West Point, 
Armee ; ray, ray, ray ; U. S. M. A., West 
Point ! Team ! Team ! Team ! ” 

Douglas heard it with a thrill of joy, for he 
was among the proud wearers of the cadet 
colors, and his best friend, Rory O’Connor, 
was with him. On the score-card both their 
names appeared as first substitutes, and in the 
event of injuries to their principals they were 
sure to be called in to play against the best 
team that year in the East. 

Three games had already been played. 
Tufts had gone down to defeat with a score of 
30 to 0 ; Trinity came next, 38 to 6 ; and with 
the third victory of 18 to 0 against Williams 
the side-line enthusiasts concluded that the 
academy had an unusually strong team. In 


AT WEST POINT 


3*3 

each of these contests, Douglas had replaced 
Swayne at quarter for a portion of the game 
and in every case he had produced an excel- 
lent impression. 

“ He is steady and fast,” said Speedwell, 
“gives his signals like a drill-master, and has 
all the grit needed and a lot to spare — in fact 
he is one of the pluckiest lads Eve seen on the 
gridiron, and in another year, he and O’Con- 
nor will make the best men the academy has 
ever had. But they are plebes, without much 
experience, and Atwell must win the confi- 
dence of the team before we can risk putting 
him into a big game. Should an}Thing hap- 
pen to Swayne to-day, however, Atwell will 
go in against old Eli, and we’ll see what he 
can do against the coming champions. Ah, 
here they come, and by Jove, they merit their 
title.” 

The whole Yale stand rose, and their cheer 
was mingled with the corps yell of the cadets 
as the giants leaped over the ropes and danced 
across the field. Whipping off their sweaters, 
they sprang into line and ran through their 
signals with the snap and precision which is 
ever characteristic of the wearers of the blue. 


3H 


A PLEBE 


“ They will tear us to pieces, Douglas,” said 
Rory as he stood on the side-line and watched 
the fearful Yale machine limbering up for the 
fra}^. “ Our men seem boys beside them. 
Look at that centre — he must weigh a ton, and 
both guards will go one hundred and ninety 
five easily, and yet they are athletes of the 
highest order, without an ounce of fat on their 
bodies. We’ve got a good team of youngsters, 
Douglas, but those fellows are veteran gladia- 
tors.” 

Speedwell, the right half and captain of 
the team, tall, slender, and trim as a race-horse, 
was standing beside his six-foot opponent as a 
coin flashed in the air. 

“ We win the toss,” said Rory enthusiastic- 
ally, “ and Speedwell is taking the north 
goal. That gallant wind may save him for a 
time, but I don’t think it can hold Yale 
back.” 

A hush settled over the field as the dapper, 
compact, little West Point team lined up in 
the centre of the field and Yale took up 
formation to receive the kick-off. The ref- 
eree’s whistle sounded, Speedwell sprang for- 
ward, and the ball sailed through the air 


AT WEST POINT 


3 J S 

like a rocket impelled by his terrific kick. 
Clear down to the five yard line it went, but 
Swayne and Speedwell, eluding every op- 
ponent, swept down the field in a magnificent 
burst of speed, and the Yale quarter went 
down in his tracks as the ball settled in his 
arms in front of the goal. 

How the corps yelled ! How the spirits of 
the little team rose ! One hundred and five 
yards to go before a touch-down could be 
scored, while a single error by Yale at this 
stage of the game might yield a West Point 
victory. 

“ Hold ’em, men, hold ’em !” shouted Speed- 
well as the teams crouched low for the first 
scrimmage. 

“ Tear ’em up, West Point, eat ’em alive, 
eat ’em alive,” shouted.an enthusiastic specta- 
tor. But the big Yale half-back crashed into 
the line for a three yard gain, the full made it 
one more and it was third down and one yard 
to gain. Yale barely made her distance, and 
it took all the necessary downs to force the 
ball forward to the next chalk mark. 

The grand stands were wild with excite- 
ment, for Yale, the acknowledged champions 


A PLEBE 


316 

of the year, had three downs once more and 
two yards to gain, and the full was dropping 
back to kick. 

The blue line held like a rock, the kick got 
off in excellent form, but it was low and short 
and impeded by the wind, and Speedwell 
swept it up in his arms at a run, and was away 
like a hurricane in an open field. 

Up leaped the spectators, West Point thrilled 
with hope, Yale shivering with anxiety, but 
only for a moment, for Speedwell was downed 
at last on the ten-yard line. Across the field 
the two colleges roared their defiant yells, and 
for the first time in the history of this annual 
contest, Yale was anxious as to the outcome. 
Now came the crucial test. It was West 
Point's ball and only ten yards to go for a 
touch-down, but the line which up to date had 
broken the attack of every other team, was 
firm as steel against the valiant assault of the 
West Point backs, and on downs the ball 
went to old Eli. For eight minutes she had 
struggled in vain to place the ball out of 
dangerous proximity to her goal, and now in 
an instant she succeeded, and the whole com- 
plexion of the game was changed. 


AT WEST POINT 


3 l 7 

Yale kicked on the first down, Swayne 
fumbled the catch, and the Yale end was upon 
the ball like a flash in mid-field. 

“ There’s a chance yet,” groaned Rory, but 
Yale’s battering ram began its assault on the 
line, and slowly hut surely the resistance be- 
gan to weaken. Back and forth the ball sped, 
West Point gaining in the kicks, Yale on 
the line plunging, and with only three 
minutes remaining of the half, the ball was 
still forty yards from a touch-down. 

Deep and resonant came the call of the 
Yale supporters to make the score ; deeper, 
louder still came the appeal of the corps to 
check the advance. Gray-bearded colonels 
were wearing the gold from their shoulder- 
straps as they pushed against their neighbors 
in imagination “ helping ” the black and gold 
and gray hold back the furious blue. It was 
a matchless contest. 

One more minute to play ! 

Once more the Yale backs leaped into the 
line, this time parting it as the prow of a bat- 
tle-ship splits the wave, and through the break 
shot the right half-back. In an instant he 
was clear of the second line of defense and 


3 1 8 A PLEBE 

only little Swayne stood between him and the 
West Point goal. 

Could Swayne stop the giant? Could he 
rise to the emergency in West Point’s moment 
of peril? 

“ Yes, he’s got him, he’s downed him ! ” 
shrieked a spectator, as Swayne and the run- 
ner crashed together and rolled to the earth 
within five yards of the goal-line. Swayne 
had stopped him, but when the whistle 
sounded, the little West Pointer lay limp and 
helpless. A moment later he staggered to his 
feet, and plunged furiously into the next play, 
but valor such as this is fruitless against such 
terrible odds in weight and strength. In two 
plays, Yale crashed across the goal-line for a 
touch-down just as time expired for the half. 

An easy goal was kicked, and the players 
trotted off the field for a ten minutes’ rest. 
The score stood, Yale 6, West Point 0. 

“ Mr. Atwell, you’ll go on for the second 
half,” said Lieutenant Short, the head coach, 
as he passed down the side-lines, “ Swayne is 
completely used up.” 

Douglas’ heart leaped as he sprang down 
the field to join the players en route to the 


AT WEST POINT 


3 l 9 

dressing-rooms, for though his sympathy went 
out to Swayne, yet this was the opportunity 
for which he had yearned with all his 
heart. 

Alert and eager, he listened to Lieutenant 
Short’s impassioned appeal to the zeal and 
courage of his men, and then to Speedwell’s 
vehement urgency to exceed all previous ef- 
forts, and at least to tie the score. Greater 
earnestness could not have been manifested 
had the issue of a battle or the fate of the 
nation been at stake, and when Douglas trot- 
ted out upon the field, he felt the weight of 
all this responsibility upon his shoulders. As 
quarter, he must give the signals, and in a 
measure direct and lead the team. 

“ You have an opportunity which seldom 
falls to the lot of any plebe,” said Lieutenant 
Short. “ For the first time in our history we 
have a chance of stopping Yale and winning 
a place among the ‘ big four,’ and you can 
make or mar the fate of the game more than 
any other man on the field.” 

With these words ringing in his ears, Doug- 
las took his place on the field in his first great 
game. Yale kicked off and Speedwell re- 


3 2 ° 


A PLEBE 


ceived the ball, and behind magnificent inter- 
ference, raced through the Yale team for 
thirty yards. It was West Point’s ball twenty 
yards from mid-field, and Douglas had already 
resolved to try the line, where a substitute 
tackle had taken the place of Yale’s best 
player. 

“ 12, 22, 16, 73, 84,” he shouted and the 
whole field waited to see the result. It was 
Speedwell on that new tackle play. 

True as an arrow Douglas passed the ball, 
and then with frantic zeal plunged into the 
line with Speedwell, crushing the defense like 
an egg-shell, and the astonished spectators saw 
the fleet West Pointer racing down the field 
like a meteor. 

Thirty yards before he was downed ! How 
the hills echoed with the triumphant shout of 
the corps ! How Yale gasped at the result. 

“Right on the same spot again, Atwell,” 
panted Speedwell as the team sprang into 
place, and once more the combined force of 
the back-field was hurled against the weak 
point in the line, and five more yards were 
gained in the enemy’s territory. But this 
magnificent spurt could not last. The weight, 


AT WEST POINT 


3 21 

the experience were with Yale, and West Point 
was soon forced to kick. 

Back and forth the battle swayed, neither 
team capable of reaching striking distance of 
the other’s goal, and with only five minutes 
left to play, “ Fatty ” Watson, the big defen- 
sive half-back, was severely injured. 

With a groan the West Point supporters 
saw him carried to the side-lines, for all hope 
of success seemed to vanish with this loss 
from the fighting force of the team. 

“ Take his place, O’Connor,” said Lieuten- 
ant Short. “ We have less than five minutes 
to play. Go in, use up every bit of energy 
you have in that time and come out of the 
game with nothing left.” 

“ Yes, sir, yes, sir,” answered Rory, paling, as 
he sprang away from his big gray blanket, 
dashed across the glistening chalk lines, and 
dropped into position beside Speedwell and 
Douglas. 

Well aware of the fact that she could not 
score again, Yale had assumed defensive 
tactics and at once called for a kick. 

“ We’ll smash through that weak tackle 
and block it, Rory,” whispered Douglas, and 


A PLEBE 


322 

the two eager plebes crouched ready for the 
spring. 

Back sailed the ball toward the Yale full, 
and simultaneously Douglas and Rory shot 
forward like engines in tandem, and with 
one combined onslaught, hurled back the 
opposing tackle and sprang through the 
line. 

Rory assailed the backs while Douglas 
eluded them, and with a wild tumult raging 
within him, reached the open field in front of 
the Yale full-back just as he dropped the ball 
for his punt. Ignoring the danger, Douglas 
plunged into the ascending foot, hurling the 
kicker to the ground, while the ball bounded 
backward from his chest toward the Yale 
goal-posts. Shouts rent the air as Douglas 
pursued the bounding ball, with a struggling 
mass of Yale and West Point players close 
behind him, but Roderick O’Connor was 
nearest. 

“ Fall on it, Douglas,” he shrieked. “ I’m 
behind you.” 

Calling forth the last bit of energy within 
him, Douglas forged slightly ahead and 
sprang for the ball while Rory flung himself 


AT WEST POINT 


3 2 3 

at the Yale captain and held him at bay till 
they crashed together on the ground. 

“ West Point’s ball,” said the referee as he 
unraveled the tangled mass of arms and legs 
and found Douglas clutching the ball in the 
bottom of the heap. 

Five yards to go for a touch-down against 
Yale! 

The grand stands were frantic with excite^- 
ment. Hats shot into the air, and the sub- 
stitutes in their long gray blankets raced up 
and down the side-lines like mad Comanches. 
Then came the call, louder, more exultant 
than ever, “ Rah, rah, ray ; rah, rah, ray ; 
West Point, West Point, Armee ; ray, ray, ray, 
U. S. M. A., West Point. Atwell ! Atwell ! 
Atwell ! ” 

Again it came with “ O’Connor, O’Connor, 
O’Connor,” attached, and one more for 
Douglas until he had to wave for silence. 

A hush at once fell upon the field, and his 
signal rang out clear and sharp, “ 8, 24, 16, 
32, 3, 4, 5.” 

It was Speedwell on the centre, for every 
man on the Yale line expected an attack on 
the weak tackle at the critical moment. It 


3 2 4 


A PLEBE 


was excellent strategy, for the defense crumbled 
beneath Speedwell’s assault and when the 
players unlocked their grip it was second 
down and only two yards to gain. 

Once more the signal, after a breathless 
hush, and this time it was for Roderick 
O’Connor, the plebe, on the weak tackle. 
This was a daring venture, for it placed the 
fate of the game in the hands of two plebes, 
but Douglas knew his roommate’s giant 
strength, and his matchless courage, and with 
the fullest confidence he crouched to receive 
the ball. 

With a fearful crash Roderick struck the 
line, followed by every ounce of weight, 
urged on by every bit of strength of the back 
field, and the Yale line doubled beneath it, 
rolled back and toppled over behind the goal- 
posts. 

Roderick O’Connor had made a touch- 
down ! 

Never had such scenes been witnessed at 
old West Point. The air was black with hats. 
Staid old men hugged each other with delight, 
and the solid mass of gray rolled down from 
the grand stand and swarmed upon the field. 


AT WEST POINT 


3 2 5 

Unconscious of it all, Speedwell prepared 
to kick the goal. True and steady, the ball 
rose between the posts, and the score was 
tied : Yale 6, West Point 6. 

There were but two minutes left to play. 
Yale’s terrific spurt to turn the tide of battle, 
her furious assault backed by all the courage 
that Yale can call to her standards in the mo- 
ment of need, were fruitless before the magnifi- 
cent defense of Speedwell’s men. The whistle 
blew with the ball almost in mid-field, and 
for the first time in history, old Eli had been 
fought to a standstill at West Point, had been 
beaten, in fact, in many of the elements of 
the game, and Douglas Atwell and Roderick 
O’Connor had contributed more to the result 
than any other two men on the field. 

In one great afternoon they had become 
heroes whose names were destined to go down 
to history with the oft-repeated story of this 
heroic contest. Their cup of happiness was 
full indeed when their classmates rushed 
across the plain, tossed them to their 
shoulders and bore them triumphantly from 
the field. 

As they entered the training quarters 


A PLEBE 


326 

every member of the team heartily con- 
gratulated them, and Speedwell was espe- 
cially courteous and appreciative of their 
service, and never did two sore and bruised 
plebes feel more proud of their hurts. 

At supper that night the old Mess Hall 
rang with the merry din of conversation, and 
the “ beautiful work of the two plebes ” was 
the subject of universal comment. 

“ You’ve won your chevrons all right, 
Mr. Atwell, and so have you, Mr. O’Connor,” 
said Bobbie MacGregor. “ I saw three Tacs. 
dancing like Irish horn-pipers when you 
ripped a hole in old Eli and blocked that 
kick. You got a mortgage on the game right 
there, and I can place you right now in the 
list of corporals for next June. How did you 
stand in math, this week ? ” 

“ Battalion attention ! ” 

Cadet Adjutant Starring’s voice rang 
through the room above the din and clatter, 
and silence instantly followed. Then he un- 
folded a bundle of orders and clear and sharp 
each word floated to the farthermost corner of 
the hall as he read the list of transfers. 
Sufficient time had passed since the be- 


AT WEST POINT 


3 2 7 


ginning of the academic year to grade each 
man according to his work, and in every de- 
partment cadets whose marks were above or 
below the standard of their section, were 
transferred up or down the class until the 
grade became perfect once more from head to 
foot. 

The first, second and third classes were 
disposed of in a few moments, and then 
Douglas waited breathlessly to hear his fate. 
As the plebes had been arranged alphabetic- 
ally up to this date, the transfer would be 
general and hereafter they would be arranged 
according to merit only. But Starring was 
reading. 

“ The fourth class is hereby rearranged ac- 
cording to merit in the department of 
mathematics as follows : 

“ The first section, attendance daily from 
8 a. m. until 9:30 a. m. in Room No. 215, 
Academic Building, Lieutenant Drummond, 
Instructor. 

“ Adamson, Jackson, Dalton, O’Connor and 
Shanks.” 

The big Kentuckian was head of the class, 
Rory had won signal honors, but Jackson 


A PLEBE 


3 28 

ranked him two files, a situation which he had 
already resolved to reverse if it lay within 
him to do so. Starring was reading on, reel- 
ing off section after section with marvelous 
speed and fluency ; finally, Douglas heard his 
name — the last man in the ninth section. 

Had he dropped one file lower, he would 
have landed in the goats, and there his foot- 
ball career would have terminated, for mem- 
bers of the lowest sections are not permitted 
to risk their future standing by playing a 
game which demands a portion of their time 
and energy. Thus Storms was out of the 
game, for he had gone to the goats, and the 
expression on the big plebe’s face showed 
that he fully realized the danger of his posi- 
tion. The least concerned of all was Jacques, 
whose fate was practically sealed, for he was 
the lowest man in the class and his best 
friends could hardly hope for mercy, while 
Dalton, the meek-eyed boy of seventeen, the 
“ Patriarch’s son,” had won a place in the 
first section with Zeke Shanks, Adamson, 
O’Connor, and Jackson. 

“ Yes, Jackson is there, second ranking 
man in the class, a star pupil in the depart- 


AT WEST POINT 


3 2 9 


nient of mathematics,” mused Douglas as he 
slowly ascended to his room that night, “ and 
I am on the brink of the precipice and fight- 
ing for my life.” 

Before his roommates, however, he showed 
no anxiety, and bravely concealed the anguish 
that was gnawing at his heart. The time 
passed in light conversation until the sentinel 
inspected, and then Douglas declined to ac- 
company Rory and Jacques on a visiting tour 
about barracks, and so they left the room and 
he was alone. 

It had been a glorious day, one in which 
Douglas had heard his name shouted trium- 
phantly, exultingly across the old historic 
battle plains of West Point, had heard his cour- 
age exalted by the whole corps of cadets, but 
the day was over, the trodden and deserted field 
was shrouded in darkness, and Douglas sat at 
his bare wooden table gazing at his marks for 
the week. 

Deficient once more in mathematics, and 
only a few tenths ahead in English, Douglas 
realized that the future would try him to his 
limit. From the history of the past, it was 
impossible to avoid the conclusion that nearly 


33 ° 


A PLEBE 


every man in the last section and several men 
in the two sections above would be found 
deficient at the January examination, and 
would be dismissed as unworthy of a place in 
the commissioned ranks. Douglas had striven 
with all his power, yet he had failed. 

His head sank wearily on his hands on the 
table, and his eyes became moist as he re- 
viewed the hopes that had inspired him, the 
struggle he had made, the vain, heart-break- 
ing effort to meet the conditions at the 
academy. And now it seemed that the great 
ambition of his life was impossible of realiza- 
tion. 

How long he had remained a victim of his 
thoughts Douglas did not know, but he was 
aroused by the sound of footsteps in the hall, 
the door swung open and Karl Krumms and 
Roderick O’Connor entered. 

“ Hello, old boy,” shouted Karl, enthusi- 
astically, “ that was beautiful work against 
old Eli to-day. Every one in barracks is 
talking about it. You’re a gilt-edged hero 
on the football field, but how did you come 
out on the transfer ? ” 

“ One file from the goats, Karl,” said Doug- 


AT WEST POINT 


33 1 

las, and the slight quaver in his voice betrayed 
the emotion he had been suffering. 

“ That’s all right, old boy,” said Karl, very 
gently. “ There’s nothing to this first trans- 
fer. Why, Stanley, the president of the year- 
ling class, went to the goats last year, and he 
now stands fifteen in his class. There are 
several men in the first section who will come 
down like parachutes just as soon as we strike 
something we haven’t studied before, and 
Jackson’s one of them. I’ve been with him 
up to transfer, and know that he is reciting 
now on what he learned before he came here. 
When it comes to a real brain struggle, a real 
question of the survival of the fittest, I’m 
going to put old Jack out of the race myself,” 
and Karl held his hand tragically to his brow. 

“ By the way, Karl,” broke in Rory, “ what 
do you think of what 4 old faithful ’ was say- 
ing at the meeting to-night ? He and Storms 
had a pile to say for men who are not highly 
esteemed. Sounded like a mare’s nest to me.” 

“ We stumbled into a little confidential 
meeting,” explained Karl, as he turned to 
Douglas, “ and there we heard that several 
thefts had been committed in barracks since 


33 2 


A PLEBE 


the publication of Godwin’s request to report 
all such cases to him. You recollect he in- 
sinuated that something was known about the 
thief? ” 

“ Yes, I recollect that,” said Douglas, ear- 
nestly, his interest rising. “ Rory lost a watch 
in camp. Has anything been heard of it?” 

“ Well,” said Karl, in a low tone, “ the 
thing is strictly confidential. A selected few 
in each class have been detailed to keep on 
the qui vive. They say a cadet is suspected 
of being the thief.” 


CHAPTER XVI 


ON FRANKLIN FIELD 

A thief in the United States corps of cadets! 
Could this thing be possible ? 

A man with the slightest taint of dishonesty 
is abhorred by that body of young men. It 
would seem impossible that any person who 
was actually capable of theft could find his 
way into the corps, yet now, in the last days 
of November, additional and almost incon- 
trovertible evidence had been accumulated to 
show that some cadet must be a common 
thief. 

Littlefield had lost a watch. 

“ I placed it on my table at about 7 : 45 p. m. 
when I began studying,” he explained at a 
confidential meeting of a number of his class- 
mates, “ and I was not absent from my room 
at all until 9:45 that night. Just as the 
sentinel of the third relief was going off post, 
I went down-stairs to drag a pail of water, and 
I was gone not more than three or four min- 
333 


334 


A PLEBE 


utes. It is barely possible that some person, 
other than a cadet, may have entered the 
division during my absence, but I don’t be- 
lieve it. All three sentinels who were on post 
have already told me that no unauthorized 
person entered or left barracks while they were 
on duty. 

“ This practically narrows things down to 
one conclusion : — the man who has been 
committing all these thefts lives in my divi- 
sion.” 

“ And is he a plebe, in your opinion ? ” 
asked Winslow suggestively. 

“ I couldn’t go that far, Winslow,” said 
Littlefield, “ the matter is too serious to admit 
of reckless conjecture. Let us bend our ener- 
gies to laying hands on the man, and then we 
can decide about his class without the danger 
of a mistake.” 

This was the situation when the plebe class 
fell in for recitation on the morning after the 
commission of the theft. Every effort had 
been made to keep the matter quiet and allow 
the culprit to commit himself, but nevertheless 
this subject which a month ago was spoken 
of only in whispers, was now discussed most 


AT WEST POINT 


335 

earnestly and freely by every class in the 
corps. 

Douglas heard the talk and shivered. As 
one feels an impending danger in the dark- 
ness, so he felt a vague dread that he was in 
some manner suspected of being connected 
with the commission of these crimes, and in 
spite of all his efforts he could not throw off 
the impression. The fact that Jackson and 
Storms had urged the probable guilt of some 
cadet might explain his anxiety. He fully 
recognized them as enemies who were agreed 
on some method of attack, but what was the 
method ? It was clear that Storms’ relations 
to Jackson had recently undergone a change, 
for the big plebe was no longer a mere 
satellite of his wealthy roommate, but 
rather controlled, mastered, and roughly 
ordered him about, and Douglas regarded 
him as b}' far the more dangerous man of 
the two. 

Twice while on sentry duty Douglas had 
been forced to report- Storms for infractions of 
discipline, and once a fight between them had 
been averted only by the sudden appearance 
of Rory O’Connor, when Storms “ took water,” 


A PLEBE 


33 6 

and the armed truce thus established had as 
yet been unbroken by either party. 

Douglas could not banish the recollection 
of these things from his mind when he sat 
down to the written recitation which was to 
be the last before the great game with Annap- 
olis at Franklin Field, Philadelphia. Every 
bit of his mental strength he needed to save 
him from impending disaster in the depart- 
ment of mathematics, for he well knew that 
he was still the lowest man in the ninth 
section, and that failure in this recitation 
meant a transfer to the goats. In vain he 
struggled to get his mind on the work 
before him, but when the period terminated, 
he handed in a neat but sadly defective 
sheet and left the room with a heavy 
heart. 

“ I’m afraid it’s all over, Rory,” he said 
sadly, “ I fessed out cold, and nothing can 
save me from the goats.” 

After this failure, it was harder still to 
prepare his subject in English, but yet he 
staggered through a fair recitation, and all 
was over for a few days until after the great 
game for which both academies were so eagerly 


AT WEST POINT 


337 

waiting. The whole corps was agog over the 
prospects of the contest. 

“ We were never in better condition,” said 
Speedwell. “ The team, though light, is fast 
and strong, and we have every chance of a 
decided victory. Swayne is the only man in 
poor condition, and it is probable that Atwell 
will play the whole game.” 

Douglas was certainly in fine fettle physic- 
ally. His muscles were hard as steel, and for 
his weight he was by far the fastest man on 
the team. Had it not been for Swayne’s ex- 
perience, there could have been no question as 
to the plebe’s superior claim to the position of 
quarter. Douglas, Rory, Dunker, King and 
Shannon had been admitted to the training 
table immediately after the Yale game, and 
were now recognized as among the best talent 
at the academy. 

All necessary arrangements had been made 
for the game by the Army Officers’ Athletic 
Association, and at the club, the “ scientists ” 
had dismounted their respective hobbies for 
the time being, and all talked of the 
“ game.” 

“ Atwell is the great find of the season,” 


A PLEBE 


33 8 

declared an enthusiastic side-liner. “ He is 
the hardest fighter, the pluckiest, snappiest 
little quarter we’ve sent out in many a year. 
I hope the coaches will overlook the fact that 
he is a plebe, and put him in for the whole 
game. I’ll stake my last cent that that plebe 
will never lose his nerve.” 

Never had such interest been manifested in 
the game, for Annapolis had a fine, heady 
team whose colors had gone down only before 
Princeton, while West Point had tied Yale, 
lost to Harvard by a score of 6 to 0, and had 
smothered every other opponent. 

Escorted by the whole battalion, the team 
marched to the railroad station on Friday 
morning, and followed by the resounding 
cheers of their comrades, they drew away on 
the seven o’clock train for Philadelphia, while 
the rest of the battalion marched back to bar- 
racks for one more day of routine. At the 
same hour the team of cadets from the naval 
academy was racing on to Washington, while 
special trains were assembling at both West 
Point and Annapolis to carry the rival battal- 
ions to Franklin Field on the following day. 
Here were all the features and incidents to 


AT WEST POINT 


339 

fire the young blood and inspire the opposing 
teams to herculean efforts. 

“ Come,” said Douglas as the gray turrets of 
the academy faded away in the distance, 
“ come, Rory, let us lay our plans for the game. 
If we should be called in to play, we should 
know beforehand just exactly what we will 
do.” 

Together they sank into the cushioned 
seats, so soft, so luxurious as compared to the 
hard bottomed chairs in their room, and there 
enjoyed the first moment of real relaxation 
since the grind began on the first day of Sep- 
tember. In happy forgetfulness of all cares, 
they pledged their mutual support and co- 
operation while the train sped on through 
Jersey City, across the historic Delaware, and 
drew up in Philadelphia about midday. It 
had been a glorious trip. 

That afternoon the team came down from 
the hotel, and for the first time Douglas trot- 
ted out on the battle ground where he hoped 
to see his colors score a magnificent triumph 
on the following day. Both he and Swayne 
ran the team through signal practice, and 
when the work of the afternoon was over, the 


A PLEBE 


34o 

coaches had not yet decided who should fill 
the place at quarter. 

All that afternoon the trains that rolled into 
Philadelphia let down stern-faced men with 
traveling-bags, men whose courage had been 
tried out on many a bloody battle-field, who 
had traveled half-way across the continent to 
see the young sons of their Alma Mater in 
this Homeric contest. 

Gradually the hotels filled, but the magni- 
tude of the crowd was not apparent till the 
following morning. The streets were swarm- 
ing with an enthusiastic multitude at twelve 
o’clock when the music of the West Point 
band came pealing through the streets, leading 
the battalion of cadets, in column of fours, out 
to the grounds of the University of Pennsyl- 
vania. Erect, attentive, superb in bearing, 
they marched with that magnificent precision 
which has won the applause of every audience 
before which it has been exhibited, while 
down an adjacent street came the cadets from 
the naval academy, younger, somewhat 
smaller, yet equally imposing in their suits of 
dark blue. 

Godwin was commanding the cadet battal- 


AT WEST POINT 


34i 


ion, and his fine voice rang out clear as a bell 
as he swung the battalion into line in front 
of the Houston Club. 

“ Corps yell for the navy,” he shouted, 
springing to the top of the club steps and rais- 
ing his hat high in the air, and never was the 
corps yell rendered with more enthusiasm than 
now when it rolled out over the streets of 
Philadelphia in honor of a respected enemy. 

Then the ranks melted, the gray-clad 
youths sprang up the steps, and the middies 
swung into line and with equal enthusiasm 
returned the compliment of their brothers in 
arms. The doors of the club were swung wide 
open and cadets, midshipmen, and the officers 
of the army and navy from both academies 
were admitted to a magnificent lunch as the 
guests of the university. 

The salads, the oyster patties, the creams 
and the sweetmeats of that fine luncheon 
were not for the team, however, for they had 
already dined on the fare for gladiators who 
were about to engage in their greatest contest. 

Already the great grand stands of beautiful 
Franklin Field were filling with spectators, 
and the roar of voices came to the players as 


A PLEBE 


342 

they held their last conference before the 
game. 

Douglas Atwell was to play as quarter. 
Outside the window he could hear a boy 
shouting out the names of the players, and of- 
fering his score cards for sale. 

“ It is our last game,” said Speedwell. 
“ We’ve had a season of unparalleled success 
and have at last won our place among the big 
college teams, but everything will be lost if 
we do not win the game to-day. Every man 
must play harder, faster, pluckier football to- 
day than ever before, and remember the navy 
is never beaten till the referee’s whistle stops 
the game. The whole army awaits the result. 
To-night every station in the Philippines will 
know whether or not we are worthy of our 
colors, and upon every man’s shoulders the 
responsibility rests. I would rather be carried 
off the field dead than to lose the game. 
Come on.” 

The last words were uttered with a fervor 
and earnestness that made the chills creep 
over every man who heard them. Then the 
door was flung open and Speedwell sprang out 
upon the field, followed by his team. 


AT WEST POINT 


343 


Up sprang the corps from their seats in the 
grand stand, and with megaphones to their 
lips, poured down their thrilling, welcoming 
shout, while the navy on the opposite side of 
the field strove to drown it with that match- 
less, weird and awe-inspiring “ siren call,” 
which has no parallel among college yells. 
The band, assembled in the southeast corner 
of the field, was almost overwhelmed by the 
terrific din. 

Great as had been the tumult, it was re- 
doubled when the navy team appeared, light, 
compact, clean-limbed, and quick as young 
panthers. Both teams possessed to a high de- 
gree the qualities of agility, mobility and ag- 
gressiveness, but differed in their tactics. Too 
much interested to cheer, the great throng 
breathlessly watched the two teams step back 
into their places, and all was ready for the 
crucial test of strength. A more distinguished 
audience never assembled to witness the 
Olympic games or the Roman gladiatorial 
contests. In the boxes sat the President, the 
secretary of war and several members of the 
cabinet, while the secretary of the navy bent 
eagerly forward from the box at the foot of the 


344 


A PLEBE 


great tier of blue and gold. Grizzled gener- 
als, distinguished admirals, men whose deeds 
merit immortality, were seated on either flank 
of the superintendents of the two academies, 
together with many a man whose name was 
written among the treasured records of his 
country ; and before all these, Douglas At- 
well, a plebe from a remote country hillside, 
was to lead West Point in its great contest. 

Something leaped within him as the 
thought surged through his brain, and he felt 
with Speedwell that he would rather be car- 
ried off the field dead than to lose the game. 

“Are you ready, Captain Speedwell?” 
shouted the referee. 

“ Ready, sir.” 

“ Are you ready, Captain Cushing ? ” 

“ Aye, aye, sir.” 

“ Piay ! ” 

In an instant the ball shot into the air, 
impelled by Speedwell’s ever certain kick, and 
Douglas was away beneath it, leading every 
member of the team by several yards. A 
middy crashed into him, but he sprang aside, 
kept his feet, and saw the ball settle in the 
arms of a player in the back field. The 


AT WEST POINT 


345 


navy grand stands leaped to their feet shout- 
ing like mad, for Halpin, the swiftest runner, 
the best dodger on the team, had the ball. 

Douglas heard nothing. He saw only the 
flying runner masked by three blue-shirted 
enemies, and with one tiger leap he crashed 
into them, through them, and rolled head- 
long to the earth with Halpin’s legs pinioned 
in his arms. 

The navy sank back with a groan ; the 
army was frantic with delight, and five hun- 
dred voices poured down the corps yell into 
the arena with “ Atwell ! Atwell ! Atwell ! ” 
at the end. The boy heard it, and the glory 
of it cured the pain which the fearful shock 
of collision had caused him. 

“ Up, up, quick, play like lightning ! ” 
shouted Speedwell, and his urgent command 
was given none too soon, for the middies were 
on their feet in an instant, and without a 
signal the play was launched. It caught the 
line unprepared, the runner came through 
like a flash and plunged forward ten yards 
before he was smothered by Douglas, Watson, 
and Torrey, the full-back. 

How the navy shouted ! How the “ siren ” 


A PLEBE 


346 

howled through the megaphones, for the 
relative strength of two teams is usually 
indicated by the results of the first trials at 
the line. In that magnificent ten-yard dash, 
the navy saw the foreshadowings of a victory. 

Without signal, as if created from nothing, 
came the second play, but Watson and Torrey 
met it squarely, and the runner went down 
with only one yard to his credit. 

“ Hold ’em, hold ’em ! ” roared the mega- 
phones, but while the sound was yet rolling 
across the field, the third play was off like a 
flash, and the grand stands were upon their 
feet in an instant. Halpin had the ball in 
an end run. 

Douglas was after him, running like a race- 
horse to stave off the impending disaster. If 
Halpin should elude him, only Speedwell 
would be left to defend the goal, and every man 
in the grand stand would bitterly condemn the 
judgment of putting a plebe in the most respon- 
sible position on the field. With his whole 
reputation at stake, Douglas ran, and a shout 
rolled like thunder from the grand stand as 
the frantic boy leaped through the air- 
fastened his grip upon the flying legs, and 


AT WEST POINT 


347 


brought Halpin down. Neither Yale nor 
Harvard nor any other team that West Point 
had met upon the gridiron was playing as 
fast a game as Annapolis, and West Point 
was straining every effort to stop them. 

But what had happened ? 

A flash of brown canvas-covered legs, a yell 
suspended at half delivery, and then pande- 
monium. Atwell, assisted by Watson, had 
smashed through the navy defense and was 
rolling the runner to earth ten yards behind 
the line. 

“ Oh, the little panther, he’s playing for 
keeps,” chuckled Rory as he danced up and 
down on the side-lines and yearned for a 
chance to leap in beside his plucky classmate 
and share the joy of his magnificent struggle. 
But Douglas was now deaf to the roar of the 
grand stands, unconscious of the fact that 
twenty-eight thousand people were breath- 
lessly awaiting the result of every move. 
With sparkling eyes fixed upon the back- 
field, he awaited the next play, and when it 
came, driven by all the power that Annapolis 
could command, he, Watson and Torrey met 
it, flung it back, and ground it down to the 


A PLEBE 


34 8 

earth, and it was second down and three 
yards to gain. One more frantic try at the 
line met the same fate, and the full-back 
dropped back to kick. 

“ Atwell back,” shouted Speedwell, and 
Douglas raced out into the open field and 
fervently prayed that the ball might not 
come to him. Scarcely had he arrived when 
the ball shot into the air, and he saw the 
ends surging down the field. 

“ I have it, I have it,” cried Speedwell, and 
Douglas sprang in front of him, plunging into 
the oncoming ends, and all came down to- 
gether with terrific force. To the stunned boy 
the earth seemed to be heaving like the rest- 
less sea, the grand stands shooting by like the 
landscape from the window of a flying train ; 
but he had saved Speedwell, and strength 
surged back into his limbs as he saw the latter 
get away with the ball. 

Five, ten, fifteen, twenty yards, shot away 
beneath his flying feet before he was hauled 
down, and all knew that the tide of victory 
had been turned, yet the exultant shout from 
the West Point grand stand was answered with 
equal vehemence by the still confident mid- 


AT WEST POINT 


349 

dies. “ N-n-n-n, A-a-a-a, V-v-v-v, Y-y-y-y. 
Navy ! Navy ! Navy ! ” 

It was West Point’s ball only thirty-five 
yards from the goal. Douglas sprang into po- 
sition, his plan of attack all formed in his 
head. That plunge through guard with Wat- 
son a few minutes before had given him a cue 
to the weakness of his opponents. So great 
was the noise in the navy grand stand, how- 
ever, that he was forced to order the team to 
the rear and shout his signal to them. “ Wat- 
son, you must make it. We must tear straight 
through them without a halt until we make a 
touch-down. Every man must play for every 
bit that is in him.” 

Douglas struck his hands together with a 
vehemence that was surprising even to him- 
self, and he was no longer the timid plebe, 
haltingly dragging through a recitation, but 
rather a leader demanding a service from a 
subordinate. 

And Watson responded with all the power 
of his great muscular body. Right through 
the guard he plunged for eight yards before 
he was hurled to the ground by the navy 
backs. 


35 ° 


A PLEBE 


“ Come on, come on ! ” shouted Douglas as 
he yanked his men to their feet, “ faster, faster, 
everybody faster! ” 

Again the thud of colliding bodies, the 
thrash of arms, the pant of exhausted men, 
and West Point had flung her enemy five 
more yards to the rear, and the goal posts 
stood only twenty yards distant. Down in that 
trodden arena, the panting, struggling, sway- 
ing team no longer heard the shouts of en- 
couragement, the appeal of the opposition. 
Forgetful of all else in the world, they were 
pla}dng the game with the fierceness with 
which men battle in a trench, and at each 
furious assault the navy was doggedly surren- 
dering ground. 

“ Come on, come on ! ” shouted the little 
quarter-back, his white face transfixed with 
the passion for victory, and every man felt in- 
spired with his boundless zeal, felt the irresist- 
ible force of his leadership. With a tandem 
on tackle he leaped into the line, lifting, push- 
ing, hurling on the runner, crushing down the 
defense, until with one last great burst of en- 
ergy he sank with Watson across the goal-line, 
and West Point had scored her touch-down, 


AT WEST POINT 


35i 


Then once more Douglas Atwell heard the 
wild cheering of his comrades, heard his name 
shouted on the lips of five hundred men, and 
he smiled as Speedwell patted him on the 
back. 

“ You are working like a locomotive, At- 
well ,” said he. “ I knew you would do it.” 

Speedwell kicked the goal, and across the 
field to the navy grand stands came the defiant 
war cry : — “ North point, south point, east 
point, West Point, Six Points ! ” 

Battered but full of spirit the navy lined up 
for the kick-off, and once more Speedwell 
caught the ball and sped forward twenty-five 
yards before he was downed. The distance 
was too great to try for a touch-down by 
straight rushing, and Douglas called for a kick. 
The runner was dropped in his tracks, and it 
was the navy’s ball well beyond mid-field. 

Never flagging for a moment, the teams 
fought desperately back and forth across the 
centre of the field, and with only three min- 
utes left to play, it looked like a stand-off 1 , out 
of danger of the goal. Speedwell had ordered 
Douglas into the back-field to rest him from 
the terrific defensive work on the line, and 


35 2 


A PLEBE 


now like a bolt from a clear sky, little Halpin 
circled the end, and Douglas’ heart leaped into 
his mouth as he suddenly found himself the 
only man between the flying middy and the 
West Point goal. Halpin was coming with 
all the speed of his wonderful limbs, Halpin 
whom Douglas had twice downed in the open ■ 
field — could he do it again ? 

Every bit of his nerve and muscle were, 
gathered for the try, and with a shout of de- 
light, the grand stand saw him crash into the 
runner and knew that the goal-line was saved. 
But Douglas, where was he? 

Lying motionless where he had fallen, the 
blood gushing from his mouth and nose, and 
Speedwell and the surgeon bending over him. 

“ Not badly hurt,” said the surgeon. “ He 
will be up in a minute and playing as well as 
ever.” 

With cold sponges and recuperating salts 
they wooed back the blood to his dizzy brain ; 
with rapid chafings they called back the 
strength to his trembling limbs, and as the 
wave of consciousness swept back over him, 
he sprang to his feet and was ready for the 
game. 


AT WEST POINT 


353 

It was the navy’s ball only fourteen yards 
from the goal-line. 

Standing up in the grand stand, shouting 
j like mad, the supporters of the blue and gold 
! urged on the team for the touch-down which 
would tie the game ; but each terrific assault 
on the line was met and crushed on the spot, 
and the ball went to the army ten yards from 
the line. A beautiful kick placed it out of 
danger, and the whistle sounded the end of 
the half. West Point 6, Annapolis 0. 

Forgetful of all his hurts, incredibly happy, 
with Rory O’Connor almost hugging him with 
delight, Douglas listened to the advice of Lieu- 
tenant Short for the second half, and when he 
trotted back upon the field he was waiting for 
one opportunity — to get the ball in his own 
hands in the open field. The opportunity 
came almost as if created by the wish. 

With crushing, invincible strength, the 
army was slowly pressing forward at mid- 
field when Douglas resolved to try Speedwell 
around the end. Too eager, the gallant cap- 
tain fumbled the ball — the only fumble by a 
West Point player during the game. The 
ball dropped to the ground, and quick as a 


354 


A PLEBE 


cat, Douglas snapped it up on the bounce, 
and sprang in behind the interference with- 
out breaking their speed. 

“ Turn in, turn in,” shouted Speedwell, and 
as the interference rolled over the opposition, 
Douglas evaded the end and was free of the 
line. A back plunged at him, got a hold, but 
he broke it, and was away staggering and 
panting, — and then before him lay the open 
field and the goal. 

The goal ! the goal ! 

The glistening chalk marks leaped beneath 
his feet, the black mass of humanity at the 
end of the field seemed dancing in delirium, 
but before them stood out the objective for 
which every muscle in his body was straining 
to its limit — the goal, the goal. Thirty, forty 
yards, he had sped, leaving all pursuers hope- 
lessly behind, and then a figure appeared in 
front of him, crouching and waiting, with 
teeth set and muscles drawn, and he knew it 
was Halpin. The next instant something 
happened, and Douglas imagined himself fly- 
ing like a meteor, sinking, sailing, whirling 
through endless space. The gallant lad was 
out of the game. The crushing work of the 



PE FORE HIM LA Y THE 
OPEN FIELD 













































































































































AT WEST POINT 


355 


first half, the terrific pace he had set, had 
sapped his strength and prepared him for the 
knock-out blow. While a litter bore his limp 
body to the side-line, Halpin, too, was carried 
weeping from the field. But Douglas had 
placed the ball so near the goal that another 
score was easy, and the game was clinched. 
Plucky little Swayne, small, but ever coura- 
geous, took his place at quarter. 

Under the hands of the surgeon the cob- 
webs gradually disappeared from our young 
friend’s eyes, and his first conscious impres- 
sion was that of a swarming mass of gray that 
danced wildly across the field in the wake of 
the West Point band as it pealed out a tri- 
umphant march and passed in review in front 
of the navy grand stand. 

“ What’s the matter, Rory, what’s the mat- 
ter?” he exclaimed as he tried to spring to 
his feet. 

“ Nothing’s the matter, God bless you, you 
little hero,” shouted Rory, as he danced about 
the litter. “ We’ve licked them to death. 
The score is 17 to 5.” 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE PLEBE CLASS PRESIDENT 

The snow was sweeping in blinding sheets 
across the old plain at West Point, and bank- 
ing high upon the porches of barracks when 
the battalion, almost waist deep in the drifts, 
came trudging back from supper. One of the 
fiercest storms that had ever swept up the 
Hudson River valley was now at its height. 
The great river was a solid sheet of ice ; trains 
on the New York Central had been stalled for 
a day, and the West Shore had suspended 
business. The telegraphic lines of communi- 
cation had been picked up in the furious 
grasp of the storm, rent from their insula- 
tions, and flung to the earth in tangled masses. 
The commercial world was at a standstill, 
paralyzed ; but at old West Point, the bugle 
sounded its calls on the stroke of the hour, 
the sections jumped into rank and marched 
away to their recitations with the same degree 
of regularity that had governed the military 
35 6 


AT WEST POINT 


357 


academy for nearly one hundred years, and 
the heartless, almost brutal grind of work, 
work, work, never ceased for one moment. 

Even now as the battalion stumbled along 
in column of fours through the blinding storm, 
no departure from prescribed forms could be 
tolerated, and Godwin’s voice came rolling out 
on the biting wind which was cutting into the 
face of the command. “ Battalion, attention ! ” 
and some zealous lieutenant at the head of the 
column tried to indicate the step. 

“ Fours right, march ! Battalion, halt ! ” 

The two big gas lamps on either side of the 
north sally-port looked like yellow blots 
through the flying snow, and below them the 
ill-defined form in gray, with cape tossing in 
the wind, was Godwin. Once more came his 
clear voice : “ The fourth class will hold a 

meeting to-night in the Dialectic Hall im- 
mediately after inspection by the first relief, 
for the purpose of electing a class president 
and other officers, and all upper classmen are 
requested to leave the Hall exclusively to 
them for the evening. Dismiss your com- 
panies.” 

Instantly the ranks melted, and Douglas 


A PLEBE 


35 8 

and Rory sprang up the steps of the fourth 
division porch, and shook the snow from their 
long gray overcoats. 

“ Come up-stairs, Douglas,” said Rory, “ I 
want to talk to you before we go up to the 
meeting to-night.” 

It was Saturday evening in the second week 
of January and much had happened since the 
now famous game with Annapolis. The 
much-dreaded semiannual examination had 
gone into history, and four yearlings and 
twelve plebes had bidden good-bye to the old 
academy and to their hopes of martial glory. 
Among them was Jacques, whose eyes flooded 
with tears as he stood in the long swallow- 
tailed coat in which he had reported, and bade 
farewell to his true friends. 

Douglas had passed through a terrible or- 
deal. The whole goat section had been cut 
from beneath him, while three men from the 
section above had shared their fate, thus leav- 
ing him at the very bottom of the class and 
clinging desperately to maintain his place. 

“ You have the distinguished honor of 
holding exactly the same assimilated rank as 
I Mr. Atwell,” said Bobbie MacGregor, “ and 


AT WEST POINT 


359 


if you keep the pace you’ll finally be admitted 
to the honorable company of such men as 
Sheridan, Custer, myself, Moss, Powers, Saville 
and other distinguished commanders of the 
left of the line.” 

Throughout this great struggle to stave off 
defeat, Rory O’Connor had been his faithful 
friend. Accomplishing his work in half the 
allotted time, the talented fellow had freely 
devoted his best efforts to helping Douglas to 
master the subject which was aging his fine 
boyish face. Even in this night of storm, 
Rory’s one thought was for the welfare of his 
roommate, and plans were now formulating 
in his mind for winning a victory for Douglas 
which would stand him well in the hour of 
need. 

“ Whom do you think we ought to propose 
for class president to-night? ” he asked tenta- 
tively, as the two friends reached their room 
on the top floor of the fourth division. 

“ I had scarcely thought of the matter at 
all, Rory,” said Douglas, “ as it concerns me 
so little. There are a half dozen men who 
might equally well perform that duty, but I 
should think old Adamson would be the best 

\ 


A PLEBE 


36° 

choice. He ranks at the top of the class, has 
a sober, level head, and can easily spare the 
time from his studies ; and finally, Rory,” 
said Douglas earnestly, “ we want a man who 
will run this miserable stealing business to 
cover and expose the man.” 

Rory positively jumped. “ A first-class 
idea,” he exclaimed as he slapped Douglas 
on the back. “ The thing must be run to 
earth, and I’d give my right hand to be 
instrumental in accomplishing the deed.” 

“ Then run for president of the class.” 

“ Not at all, not at all, that would ruin my 
chances ; but by Jove, you’ve suggested the 
plan of campaign, and it’s a winner,” and 
handsome Rory danced about the room in 
delight which Douglas could not understand. 
He was glad, however, that Rory thought 
the election should be influenced by this 
consideration. Indeed the situation in the 
corps was approaching a crisis, and the plebes 
needed a strong hand at the helm. Not only 
had articles disappeared mysteriously from 
barracks at regular intervals, but twice within 
the last two months the sentries had dis- 
covered a dim light in the Academic Build- 


AT WEST POINT 361 

ing after taps, and upon attempting an 
investigation, the light had suddenly van- 
ished and no trace of the intruder could be 
found. 

The sentinels were absolutely certain that 
they had seen the light glowing, though for 
only a moment, and all kinds of theories had 
been propounded in explanation from Bobbie 
MacGregor’s hypothesis of spontaneous com- 
bustion produced by heated arguments in the 
section-room, to “ Growly ” McLeod’s sugges- 
tion of a practical joke by some genius who 
had discovered a way of getting into the 
Academic Building. 

But what way? , Who would run the risk 
for a mere joke? 

To a few, the incident had a significance 
that made the heart jump and sent the blood 
tingling to the tips of the fingers, and 
Douglas Atwell was one of these. He wanted 
to see a man — any man, elected to the 
presidency of the class who would unhesitat- 
ingly attempt a solution of the mysteries 
which had grown to such proportions. 

“ All right, sir,” he answered to the sentinel 
of the first relief as the latter poked his head 


A PLEBE 


362 

into the door, and then he and Rory pulled 
on their great gray overcoats and went out 
into the storm en route to the Dialectic Hall, 
located over the north sally-port. It was the 
first time in their lives that they had entered 
the sacred precincts, for the use of the 
Dialectic Hall was supposed to be the special 
prerogative of the upper classmen. 

Ignoring the biting whirl of the storm, the 
plebes were now streaming toward it from the 
halls of all the divisions, and in a few 
minutes all had assembled except the men 
on guard. 

According to custom in these proceedings, 
Adamson, the ranking man in the class, took 
the chair. 

“ The meeting will please come to order,” 
said he with the air of one thoroughly ac- 
customed to responsibility and leadership. 
“ Until officers have been elected, I believe it 
becomes my duty to act as temporary chair- 
man.” 

This, the first official act of the plebe class 
as a body, was greeted with great rounds of 
applause, and cries of “ Good boy, Add, good 
boy.” 


AT WEST POINT 363 

“ Daddy ” Adamson was the oldest man in 
his class — twenty-two years of age in the 
preceding July, an honor graduate of one of 
the best colleges in Kentucky, a sober, solid, 
steadfast student and soldier, but without 
enthusiasm, without ambition. 

“ Nominations are now in order for class 
president,” said he with as much indifference 
as if he were announcing the lesson in math. 

Several men were on their feet instantly, 
but Storms, who occupied a seat in the front 
row, secured the floor. 

The big plebe half-faced the class and it was 
apparent at a glance that he was burdened by 
more than a mere nomination for the class 
presidency. Just before the January exami- 
nations, he had escaped from the goats on such 
liberal marks that the entire section was as- 
tonished at Lieutenant Drummond’s gener- 
osity, but the examination had dropped him 
almost to the bottom of the class, and he was 
now deficient and in desperate straits. 

“ Mr. Chairman,” said he, “ I want to make 
a nomination, but before doing so, I’ve got a 
few words to say to the class.” 

Jackson was seated beside his burly room- 


A PLEBE 


3 6 4 

mate and watching him with anxious, nervous 
face. 

“We want a class president,” continued 
Storms, “ and we want a good one, who can’t 
be led around by the nose by the upper 
classes. We’ve had a pretty hard time of it in 
camp, and even now we have to stand all 
kinds of nagging, and I for one am saddle- 
sore and ready to buck. I won’t stand any 
more of it if it busts the ranch. After to- 
night we’ll have an organization and a stand- 
ing, and if we elect a president with a good 
stiff backbone, we can stand hereafter on our 
official rights and call a halt on the rank in- 
justice of these insulting yearlings.” 

Storms was now rolling his head menacingly 
and swinging his arms as if in a football 
line-up. 

“ I’m not trying to stir up trouble,” he went 
on, “but I’m not going to lie down like a dog, 
and if our class president is any good we 
won’t have to. We don’t want a goat like 
myself who has to struggle against the preju- 
dice of instructors to stay in the academy. 
We don’t want a cowardly boot-lick of the 
upper classes, but we do want a man high up 


AT WEST POINT 365 

in the class who can stand up and talk and 
hold his own. What we want and what 
we’ve got to have is a man with social posi- 
tion and political backing who can carry this 
fight over the heads of the impudent year- 
lings and make ’em smart if they don’t re- 
spect the rights of the plebes. 

“ Gentlemen, I nominate Mr. Leland C. 
Jackson to be president of this class.” 

Storms sat down amid a silence that soon 
became painful. Then Roderick O’Connor 
slowly rose, a curious look of humorous un- 
certainty on his face. 

“ Mr. Chairman.” 

“ Mr. O’Connor.” 

“ Why,” said Rory, looking perplexedly 
about, “ I think — I guess — I’ll — yes, I know 
I’ll second that nomination. Yes, sir, I think 
that’s a fine nomination.” 

A burst of laughter followed that smothered 
all that Storms had said like a bucket of 
water on a little blaze. 

Half a dozen men were up again, and at 
last Karl Krumms got the floor. 

“ Mr. Chairman,” said he, “ I nominate Mr. 
O’Connor.” 


3 66 


A PLEBE 


“ I second that nomination, too,” said Rory, 
complacently, “ it’s as good as the other, and 
I request the class name me as a committee 
of one to count the votes.” 

“ I nominate Mr. Adamson,” shouted some 
one. 

“ I second him also,” sang out Rory. “ I 
second the whole first platoon of nomina- 
tions. Send them along.” But all the nomi- 
nations appeared to be in, and Rory still re- 
mained standing. 

“ Mr. Chairman.” 

“Mr. O’Connor.” 

“A few minutes ago my distinguished col- 
league, Mr. Storms, of Indiana, was pleased to 
make a few remarks bearing upon the attitude 
of the coming president of this class to the 
gentlemen of the upper house. I think it is 
proper to publicly assert that his views are 
not shared by this class as a bod}^. I am 
ready to grant that Mr. Storms and some of 
his friends may have been galled and even 
bruised by the attitude of the yearlings, but I 
object to his calling upon the class to apply 
the balm to his wounded feelings. 

“ At West Point, the aggrieved party always 


AT WEST POINT 367 

has a fair and square chance in an argument 
by rounds with two minutes fighting and one 
minute rest, and Mr. Storms and his friends 
are at perfect liberty to secure full gratifica- 
tion in private. As I understand him, how- 
ever, he would have us elect a man who dwells 
in the highly rarefied and thinly attenuated 
intellectual atmosphere of the first section, a 
man who would ‘ talk ’ these questions to a 
standstill, or who would settle them by at- 
tempting to use his social position or political 
drag ; and as a man presumably embodying 
all these advantages, Mr. Storms nominates 
Mr. Jackson.” 

Rory paused. All trace of the humorous 
had disappeared from his manner. His face 
was aglow, his eyes snapping, his voice vibrat- 
ing with feeling as he continued : “ Gentle- 

men, if anything will utterly ruin this class it 
will be an attempt to shape its future by 
means of political intrigue and social conspir- 
acies. From the very foundation of the mili- 
tary academy, men have been judged here 
solely on their deeds and not on their pull, 
and it would be a misfortune indeed if this 
class were the first to depart from the honor- 


A PLEBE 


368 

able traditions of the corps. We want a man 
for president who would lose his right hand 
before he would settle a question by an appeal 
to politics, who enjoys the full confidence and 
esteem of the upper classes, and who will cul- 
tivate and preserve our friendly relations with 
them. And finally,” concluded Rory, meas- 
uring every word and facing the entire class, 
“ we want a man who has the courage to in- 
vestigate the insinuation that there is one 
among us who is tainted with dishonor, and 
if that man be found either in this or any 
other class, we want a man who will expose 
him and expel him from the corps. 

“ Gentlemen, I nominate Mr. Atwell to be 
president of this class.” 

A perfect tumult of applause greeted the 
termination of Rory’s speech, and hearty cries 
of “ Good boy ; you’ve maxed it, Rory,” clearly 
indicated that his strong words had won the 
enthusiastic support of the class and had made 
a platform. 

Douglas half rose from his seat, amazed at 
the climax which had been reached in such a 
startling manner, but Rory’s hand was upon 
his shoulder, and he heard the latter’s firm 


AT WEST POINT 369 

command, “ Sit down, I’m running this cam- 
paign.” 

Jackson, too, was up, his face livid with 
anger and resentment which he could find no 
words to express, and Adamson’s voice was 
heard above the rap of his gavel, “ Mr. Jack- 
son has the floor.” 

“ I — I ” — stammered the latter as he al- 
most choked in the effort to find words to 
support him in the crisis, “ I did not want 
to — to speak,” and he sank weakly in his 
chair. 

The nomination had been seconded from a 
half dozen different sources, and some were 
calling for a vote. Excitement was at fever 
heat, for Rory’s speech had completely routed 
the plans for the campaign, and every one was 
at sea as to the outcome. 

“ I appoint Dalton, Karl Krumms, and 
Shannon as tellers,” said Adamson ; “ please 
distribute the slips. The voting will be by 
written ballot, the ballot bearing only the 
name of the candidate for whom you are vot- 
ing.” 

Each man had brought his pencil and many 
already had pads, so that the votes were col- 


37 ° 


A PLEBE 


lected and counted in a few minutes and 
Adamson held the returns in his hands. 

“ The following is the poll,” said he. “ At- 
well, thirty-five ; Adamson, thirty-five ; 
O’Connor, twenty-seven ; Jackson, three. No 
candidate has received enough votes to elect. 
Tellers please distribute ammunition for the 
second round.” 

Rory was on his feet in an instant. “ Mr. 
Chairman,” said he, “ I withdraw in favor of 
Mr. Atwell. If those gentlemen who have 
been kind enough to vote for me will consult 
my earnest wish they will cast their second 
vote for him.” 

Already the pencils were dashing off the 
names, and the class eagerly awaited the re- 
sult of the second poll. 

“ Atwell, forty-nine ; Adamson, forty-eight ; 
Jackson, three. No choice,” said the chair- 
man. 

Douglas heaved a sigh of relief. Under no 
circumstances could the three votes for Jack- 
son be anything but hostile to him, and he in- 
stantly saw that the next ballot would elect 
Adamson. The big Kentuckian saw it too, 
and he saw more — that Rory O’Connor’s 


AT WEST POINT 


37 1 


speech and the expressed wish of forty-nine 
members of the class had committed the presi- 
dent to investigating “ the taint of dis- 
honor ” and acting accordingly, and Adamson 
had no relish for the task. He was slowly 
tearing the returns to small pieces as he arose 
and soberly announced : “ Gentlemen, I with- 
draw. The next vote will be between Mr. 
Atwell and Mr. Jackson.” 

“ Mr. Chairman,” said Rory, and his voice 
rang out all over the room, “ I move that Mr. 
Atwell be elected president by acclama- 
tion.” 

The cheer that went up was conclusive proof 
of the eminent satisfaction felt at the result, 
and Douglas found himself escorted to the 
chair by Rory and Karl Krumms, while Jack- 
son sat dazed by the whirlwind of disapproval 
that had overwhelmed him. 

“ Speech, speech,” shouted the class as 
Douglas stepped on the platform, and the goat 
of the class found himself facing one hundred 
of his comrades, every one of whom had been 
declared his mental superior. 

But the same cool, dignified courage which 
had carried him through the perils of plebe 


372 A PLEBE 

math, were still at his command, and he was 
not at a loss. 

“ Classmates,” said he, “ I thank you for the 
trust you have reposed in me, and I hope I 
may never disappoint you. The sentiments 
which Mr. O’Connor expressed I adopt as mine. 
Toward the upper classes and all superiors in 
general, I will strive to yield a loyal support, 
fawning upon none, and cringing to none. 
Finally, to the business of clearing up the mat- 
ters to which reference has been made to-night, 
I pledge my most faithful service.” 

Douglas sat down amid applause that lasted 
till he rapped for order, and resumed the 
business of the evening. 

Adamson was elected vice-president, Karl 
Krumms secretary and treasurer, and on the 
first ballot the list of hop managers for the 
coming year was chosen with Rory near the 
top. Then the meeting terminated, and Doug- 
las walked back to his room wondering if it 
had not been all a dream. 

“ Rory,” said he, as he clasped his good 
friend’s hand, “ I owe all this to you. There 
were not ten men in the class who thought 
of me for president before you made that 


AT WEST POINT 


373 

speech. It simply elected me, but I feel 
mighty unworthy of the office.” 

Rory laughed. “ Go to sleep, old bamboo,” 
said he, “ you're talking like a goat.” 

But Douglas could not sleep. The thought 
of Jackson with his pale, drawn face as Rory 
referred to the “ taint of dishonor,” haunted 
him and drove sleep from his eyes. This state 
of affairs could not endure much longer. 
Even his own class had turned on Jackson 
and had dealt him a stinging rebuke. Douglas 
thought of the words of Bobbie MacGregor : 
“ He will suffer the most complete and relent- 
less ostracism that was ever inflicted by any 
body of men. . . . One by one you will 

fall away from him, and he will finally be 
forced out of the corps by sheer loneliness and 
isolation.” 

The wind still howled across the plain and 
the hard, fine-grained snow rattled like tiny 
drumsticks against the window-pane, yet the 
upper sash was down in nearly every room in 
barracks to let in the pure, fresh oxygen for 
the recuperation of tired brains. The heavy 
strokes of the tower clock surged out on the 
night wind an hour after taps, and Douglas 


374 


A PLEBE 


was still awake. It was perhaps a half hour 
later when he was startled from a doze by the 
loud challenge of the sentinel : “ Halt ! Who’s 
there? Halt! Halt! Halt!” 

Douglas leaped from the bed, the hair 
slightly rising on the crown of his head in 
the quick memory of nights before the enemy 
when that sharp cry was invariably followed 
by the crack of a rifle in the darkness. 

Down in the area of barracks, a sentinel was 
running as fast as the snowdrifts would per- 
mit, his rifle down as if ready to shoot — and 
he was headed for barracks. 

There was not an instant to lose. Douglas 
sprang into his trousers, clapped his feet into 
a pair of huge arctics, and slipped into his 
overcoat as he raced down-stairs on tiptoe. 
Not a soul seemed awake in barracks and he 
reached the porch unseen and sprang down 
the steps. The sentinel had halted at the 
north sally-port and was peering sharply about 
in all directions. 

“ What’s the matter, sentr} r ? ” whispered 
Douglas. “ I heard you challenge.” 

The sentinel whirled about, his rifle still at 
the “ ready.” 


AT WEST POINT 


375 


“ Saw a light in the Academic yonder,” said 
he, excitedly, “ and was just walkin’ up t’ one 
of th’ doors t’ see if ’twas all right, when out 
steps a feller square in my face. I made a 
jump fur ’im but he handed me sich a smash 
in th’ jaw that I’m seein’ stars yet. 

“ Before I could git t’ my feet he was off 
like a shot. But say, if I hadn’t been all 
stuffed up with these pillows on my hands, 
he’d be wishin’ he hadn’t cum out fur a lark 
on Billy McGovern’s post,” and the sentinel 
drew back the bolt of his rifle and shook a 
loaded shell from the breech. 

“ Who was he ? ” asked Douglas, eagerly. 

“ Don’t know, but he was a cadet all right, 
and a hard hitter, too. Say,” whispered the 
sentinel, “ I’ll be blowed if he didn’t remind 
me of that big plebe who was playin’ football 
fur a while last fall. D’ye think it could ’a’ 
been him ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” said Douglas. Then he 
went through the sally-port and gazed up at 
Storms’ room. The snow was battering im- 
potently against the window-panes and all 
was dark within. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE LIGHT IN THE ACADEMIC BUILDING 

After a long conversation with Billy Mc- 
Govern, the sentinel who had pursued the 
flying cadet to barracks, Douglas returned to 
his room and crept into bed without waking 
Roderick O’Connor. He wanted to think the 
matter over and be prepared to suggest some 
plan of action. 

This conversation had revealed one fact to 
Douglas which meant more to him than all 
that had preceded — the light had appeared, 
in all probability, in the room occupied by 
Lieutenant Drummond of the department of 
mathematics. This room was attended only 
by the plebes of the first section and the goats, 
and it was a fair presumption that the in- 
truder would prove to be a member of one of 
these two sections. But what was the specific 
motive for the act? 

Here Douglas was forced to hesitate, for as 
yet he was compelled to admit that he had 
37 6 


AT WEST POINT 


377 


only a vague suspicion as to the identity of the 
culprit. McGovern, it is true, had offered a 
strong suggestion, but “ Billy ” was a man with 
a lively imagination, and his identification 
was founded chiefly on the strength of the 
“ punch ” he had received, and his mind nat- 
urally jumped to the conclusion that only a 
cadet large enough for a football player could 
“ put Billy McGovern on queer street with 
one smash.” 

The evidence was not conclusive. Douglas 
realized that it must be a strong incentive 
indeed that would induce a plebe to risk his 
commission by entering a section-room after 
taps without authority, and Douglas won- 
dered if the unusual generosity of Lieutenant 
Drummond in the marks he had given to 
Storms could be explained by the mysterious 
appearance of the light in that instructor’s 
section-room. 

The tired boy fell asleep with the problem 
still unsolved and a plan of action as yet un- 
decided. The next morning at breakfast, he 
was astonished to find that the sentinel had 
“ talked,” the story had drifted back to bar- 
racks, and the ‘‘light in the Academic” was 


A PLEBE 


378 

discussed in a quiet, serious manner which in- 
dicated that the corps was thoroughly stirred. 

Douglas remained perfectly silent, and was 
gratified to find that no one knew of his con- 
versation with the sentry and the suspicions it 
had aroused. In the privacy of his room he 
then confided to Rory the experience of the 
preceding night, and was astonished to see the 
interest and enthusiasm which it aroused in 
his young friend. 

“ Fine, fine/’ exclaimed Rory, “ the thing 
is clearing up like a rain on drill days. The 
fog’s going, Douglas, we’ll have this thing 
maxed (solved perfectly) in less than a month. 
Littlefield will be after McGovern, and we 
must act quickly or the first class will win 
the honor of solving the n^stery. The thing 
for us to do is to get the sentinel in our 
service, and have him watch for the next 
show of light and inform us when it occurs.” 

“ I’ve already done that, Rory,” said Douglas 
smiling, “ and I think we can depend upon 
McGovern to avenge that punch. He would 
have shot the fellow down if the snow in his 
face had not blinded him.” 

“ Fortunately he didn’t,” returned Rory en- 


AT WEST POINT 


379 


thusiastically, “ he would have left nothing 
for us to do. Now we can finish up the 
business like the most approved sleuths in 
less than a month.” 

But Rory was mistaken. Every effort to 
clear up the all-absorbing mystery was fruit- 
less. Days passed into weeks and weeks into 
months, and yet no progress had been made 
on the data already available, and no new 
incident occurred to aid in the solution of the 
case. Either the midnight prowler had been 
frightened away, or else he had learned to 
conceal his operations more carefully. A 
suspicion had grown to a conviction with 
Douglas that the latter was the case, and 
though the rest of the corps had forgotten the 
incident and were ready to treat the thefts in 
barracks as the work of an outsider, yet he 
was more than ever convinced that he had a 
cadet to deal with. 

“ Oh, if I could only get a few minutes from 
this fearful grind,” he complained to Rory, 
“ I am sure that I could fix up a plan with 
McGovern for catching the man.” 

“ Why do you feel so certain that your man 
is still at work?” asked Rory. “No thefts 


A PLEBE 


38° 

have been committed for several months, and 
no light has been seen in Academic Building 
since the night McGovern ran the fellow to 
barracks, and here we are near the beginning 
of June.” 

“ We don't have to see him if we can feel 
him,” said Douglas with great emphasis. “ I 
could swear that he is still at his work, Rory, 
but the grind, the grind of work ties my 
hands and I cannot act.” 

Yes, the everlasting grind of duty had made 
him a slave to his books, and although all the 
previous efforts of his life had been as nothing 
compared to his exertions to master this sub- 
ject, yet now, at the close of the year, his pro- 
ficiency rested upon the results of his last 
week’s work. 

“ I made 1.9 to-day on my last recitation, 
Rory, as you saw on my report, and it’s just 
a toss-up as to whether or not they will send 
me up for a writ ” (written examination), said 
he as he paced restlessly up and down his 
room and pressed his hands to his aching 
temples. 

“ The sum of my marks is exactly two 
thirds of the total, with not a tenth to my 


AT WEST POINT 381 

balance above proficiency. Besides I was 
badly deficient on advance and partial review, 
and with my deficient mark to-day I am afraid 
the department will consider me deficient for 
the course. If they turn me out for a writ, 
Bory, I’ll never make it.” 

It was Saturday evening on the thirty-first 
of May. The academic year had closed with 
the last recitation of that day, and through- 
out the long barracks the plebes of the lower 
sections were eagerly preparing for the ex- 
amination. Only men who were deficient in 
their subjects were to be turned out for a 
“ writ.” In this event, the cadet who failed to 
demonstrate a perfect knowledge of two-thirds 
of a paper covering the whole course of plebe 
mathematics since January, would be as merci- 
lessly discharged from the academy as the 
dead limb is chopped from the living tree. 

On the mark made during his last week in 
the section-room, Douglas hoped to escape this 
trying ordeal, and be required to take only 
the oral examination in which he felt quite 
sure that he could acquit himself with credit. 

But would the department consider him 
proficient ? 


A PLEBE 


382 

At times he was full of hope, again he 
thought of the stupid errors, the miserable 
shortcomings of his final recitation, and his 
cup of misery was full. Whatever might be 
the action of the department, he would work 
with the courage that never knows defeat, 
and perish, if he must, with the fortitude of a 
true soldier. 

“ Would you like me to work with you to- 
night, Douglas ? ” asked Rory, as he laid his 
hand affectionately upon his young friend’s 
shoulder. 

“ No, thank you, Roderick,” said he. 
“ Whenever a man is fighting in the last 
ditch he must depend upon his own bayonet 
and magazine. It is very kind of you, old 
man. If I am saved it will be because you 
saved me with the help you have already 
given, but now I must stand out in the open 
and fight for my life.” Douglas’ voice 
quavered, and for an instant the tears rose 
close to the rim of his eyelids, but he choked 
them back and turned to his “ math.” as 
Rory left the room. 

The generous lad would willingly have sac- 
rificed this jolly night with Karl Krumms — for 


AT WEST POINT 383 

it was Saturday, and all might enjoy release 
from quarters until nine-thirty, but Roderick 
knew his roommate too well to press him 
when he said no. 

So Douglas was left alone with his task. 
He had no fear of English, of drill regula- 
tions, security and information, or the allied 
military subjects ; neither was he in danger 
in French, though he had never studied the 
subject before, but the difficulties of Ludlow’s 
“ Trigonometry ” and C. Smith’s “ Conic Sec- 
tions ” seemed almost insurmountable. 

When Rory retired to his room at tattoo, 
Douglas was still sticking to his work with 
unabated vigor, and only when “ taps ” 
sounded in the area of barracks at ten o’clock 
did he turn out the light and jump into bed. 
Five minutes after the subdivision inspector’s 
lantern had flashed over the two cots, Rory 
was sound asleep ; but not so with his room- 
mate. Douglas’ tired eyes still retained the 
impression of the blazing lights ; mathemat- 
ical formulae, and cones, and pyramids, and 
conic sections passed solemnly in review like 
an army on the march. In vain he tried to 
arrange them, to analyze them as they passed ; 


A PLEBE 


3 8 4 

in vain he tried to close his eyes and shake 
them out of his head. Every attempt ended 
with his eyes wide open, staring and straining 
like a sentinel's at night, and his brain aching 
with the effort to comprehend the subject. 
With his mind in this state, it was useless 
trying to go to sleep. He rose, partially 
dressed, pulled on his rubber-soled gymnasium 
shoes, and walked softly to the window. The 
upper sash was completely down, as usual, 
and he rested his arms upon it and looked out 
toward the south. 

The sky was clear and beautiful, lighted by 
the myriad worlds which hung like incan- 
descent specks in the infinite space. Above 
the green-clad hills of the Highlands, stood 
the constellation of Taurus, to him the one 
enchanted spot in the celestial sphere. With 
his loaded rifle across his chest, he had lain 
upon his back night after night in the Philip- 
pines and watched this mystic figure float 
across the sky, while the enemy’s bullets sang 
only a few feet above his head. Taurus was 
associated in his mind with the finest achieve- 
ments of his young life, and in a flood of by- 
gone memories he gazed upon it now and 


AT WEST POINT 385 

yearned with all his soul for the greater glory 
which he could hardly hope to win. 

Beyond the Academic Building, the scene 
of so many of his failures, lay the Hudson 
like a sheet of molten silver between the over- 
shadowing hills, and across the old historic 
plain floated the soft strains of a waltz. A 
hop was in progress at Cullom Hall, one of 
the finest, the most picturesque events of the 
year, but the very sweetness of the music 
only drove the anguish deeper into his soul, 
for in that state of depression, such as soldiers 
feel before a great battle, he could see himself 
only as an outcast, as one unworthy of partic- 
ipation in the privileges of the elect. 

Littlefield and Winslow were there, the 
most favored among their fellows, — in fact 
nearly every upper classman in the division 
had gone to the hop, and the building felt de- 
serted and lonely. Douglas realized that he 
should return to bed and try to sleep, but the 
caress of the breeze upon his face held him at 
the window for a moment longer. Listlessly 
his eyes were following a figure which was 
crossing the area of barracks along the front 
of the boiler-house, when suddenly it occurred 


A PLEBE 


386 

to him that the man’s actions were unusual, 
his manner cautious and hesitating. 

Past the engine-room the figure moved and 
was lost in the shadows near the corner of the 
Academic Building. A moment later it re- 
appeared and Douglas clutched the window- 
sill as he dimly saw his man cautiously 
approaching the door from which the sections 
usually left after the recitations. A slight 
hesitation, a low crouching over the keyhole, 
and Douglas saw the door swing slightly?' ajar 
and then close behind the intruder. 

Fifteen seconds later he was racing down- 
stairs on tiptoe, every nerve on fire, every 
sense alert and vigilant. On the first floor 
he moved with extreme care, and reached the 
area of barracks without seeing or hearing 
any one. Then he sprang through the north 
sally-port, ran along the front of barracks 
and turned in between the gymnasium and 
the west wing. . Thus protected from observa- 
tion from the windows of the Academic 
Building, he circled the cadet store, hurried 
along the rear of the guard-house, and stood 
panting in the deep shadows which had con- 
cealed the prowler a moment before. 


AT WEST POINT 387 

In his eagerness he had not waked Rory 
O’Connor, and it was now too late to turn 
back. Not more than a minute had expired 
since the entrance of the unknown man, 
when Douglas, with noiseless tread in his 
rubber soled shoes, sprang forward and laid 
hold of the knob of the door. It turned 
beneath his hand, and softly he entered. 
Had he but known it, the sentinel at the 
corner of the Academic Building was eagerly 
watching him, and as the door closed behind 
him, Billy McGovern dashed away at top 
speed for Cullom Hall. 

Douglas slowly mounted the stone steps, 
and urged on by one thought, one conviction, 
groped his way to the top of the second 
flight. Twenty paces distant was his section- 
room, where Lieutenant Drummond had 
heard his final recitation, where lay the 
record of his work in “ plebe math.” since 
the first day of January. The subtraction of 
a few tenths from that record would make 
the difference between proficiency and de- 
ficiency and send him out for a written 
examination with every prospect of disaster. 

For a moment he waited with every heart- 


A PLEBE 


388 

throb sounding in his ears like the beat of a 
drum, and then came a sound clear and 
sharp, like the dropping of a lead pencil on 
the floor of the room. The opportunity to 
capture the “ visitor to the Academic Build- 
ing ” had come at last. 

To Douglas Atwell’s straining ears came 
the sound of the lowering of the window 
curtains, followed a few seconds later by the 
opening of the drawer in the desk. Then a 
match flared up and a dull glow filled the 
room. Not another sound followed as Douglas 
crept forward like a cat approaching its prey, 
and as he reached the door he saw a man 
with back turned bending over the desk 
and apparently at work on the section-room 
book. A dark lantern, resting slantingly 
upon a number of books, cast its concentrated 
glare upon the page, but beyond this there 
was only the blurred outline of a cadet whose 
identity he could not determine. 

In the deep blackness of the shadow cast 
by the man Douglas crept forward, and with 
all his muscles drawn like bands of steel, 
sprang upon him and shot his arm about his 
neck. With a stifled cry of terror, the 


AT WEST POINT 389 

astonished intruder leaped forward, over- 
turning and extinguishing the lantern, and a 
terrific fight began in the darkness. In spite 
of all his efforts Douglas missed his hold ; 
his antagonist slipped partially from his 
grasp, and with a thrill of horror the strug- 
gling boy felt his enemy’s fingers closing 
upon his throat. Douglas was at the dis- 
advantage now, and with all his strength he 
struggled to break the grip which was stran- 
gling him, but to no avail. Two terrific blows 
he drove into his antagonist’s face and then 
in desperation reached in and clutched him 
by the throat. 

As one whose life is being slowly crushed 
out, Douglas struggled for the mastery and 
hurled his writhing antagonist about the 
room. The other had held him for several 
seconds and his eyes were starting from their 
sockets, his lungs felt bursting, but calling 
up all his courage, he clutched as a drowning 
man clutches a rope. It was but a question 
of endurance, and with a thrill of triumph 
Douglas felt his enemy relaxing and strug- 
gling to escape. They had crashed from side 
to side across the room, knocking the desks 


39 ° 


A PLEBE 


about in all directions. And now in the 
moment of success, Douglas’ foot caught in 
the upturned legs of one of the desks, and he 
rolled headlong to the floor. 

Gasping and staggering he jumped to his 
feet and groped blindly about in the darkness. 
It seemed to him that the man had escaped 
from the room, but led by the sound of a 
cautious footstep behind the desk, he leaped 
forward to renew the fight. 

Then suddenly a light flashed through the 
door filling the room, and crouching behind 
the desk in its full glare was Jackson, his eyes 
dilated, his face ashen with fear, while from 
the door came Littlefield’s voice : “ What are 

you doing here, sir? ” 

For an instant Jackson shrank in horror, 
and then his lips parted and his eyes blazed 
with a sudden inspiration as he pointed to 
Douglas and cried, “ I found this man chang- 
ing his marks. We’ve cornered the thief at 
last.” 



/CROUCHING BEHIND THE 
L DESK WAS JACKSON 





' 



CHAPTER XIX 


Douglas atwell’s traveling-bag 

Littlefield stepped forward into the dis- 
ordered section-room, and turned the full 
blaze of his lantern upon the desk. He had 
come straight from the hop-room where, pur- 
suant to previous arrangements, McGovern 
had gone to inform him that a light was again 
visible in the Academic Building and that a 
man had been seen forcing an entrance. Lit- 
tlefield was in full-dress, a hop-card hanging 
from a button of his dress-coat, and his fine 
face was aglow with eagerness as he confronted 
Jackson. 

“ You said you found this man changing 
his marks ? ” he asked sharply. 

“ Yes, sir,” said Jackson vehemently, “ he 
was changing his marks. Here is his section- 
room book where he had blotted out a defi- 
cient mark, but he knocked over the light and 
put it out when — when I came up behind 
him. We’ve been watching for him for 
39 1 


392 


A PLEBE 


months, and to-night I shadowed him to the 
Academic Building and caught him red- 
handed. He didn’t have time to finish his 
job. Not only has he been changing his 
marks but I am convinced that he is a thief.” 

“ Who is the man ? ” said Littlefield, sternly. 

“ Mr. Atwell, sir,” cried Jackson, exultingly. 

“ Mr. Atwell ! ” exclaimed Littlefield in as- 
tonishment, as he turned his light upon 
Douglas. “ Let me see that book.” 

Douglas was still panting and choking and 
struggling to speak, but he could only utter 
inarticulate sounds, and Littlefield turned the 
light from his face as if, in pity, to shut out 
the spectacle of his mortification. There lay 
the section-room book and beside it the liquid 
ink erasers Nos. 1 and 2, whose contents were 
streaming over the edge of the desk, while 
opposite to “ Atwell’s ” name, where the space 
was still wet, the mark for one recitation had 
been blotted from the record. Beside the book 
lay the weekly report unaltered. It had been 
taken from the frame in the hall below, but 
apparently time had not permitted an altera- 
tion of its contents. 

“ We all knew that he was deficient,” con- 


AT WEST POINT 


393 


tinued Jackson with excessive eagerness, “ and 
as the light had always been seen in his sec- 
tion-room, some one suggested that he might 
be the man who has been visiting the Aca- 
demic Building. I happened to be awake to- 
night when I saw him sneaking out of the 
hall, and I followed him. He got in here 
with a key — and when I came up behind him 
he knocked over the light and — and drove me 
around the room, knocking the chairs in every 
direction. I thought he was the thief all the 
time and when I saw him getting in here with 
a key I knew that I was right. Here is the 
bunch that tells the story — that’s the key of 
the storeroom.” 

“ How do you happen to know that? ” asked 
Littlefield sharply as he turned the full blaze 
of his lantern on Jackson’s face. 

“ I — I don’t, sir,” said he, “ but it looks like 
the — the one I saw Charley using when he 
opened the door of the storeroom. I feel sure 
he’s the thief, sir.” 

Littlefield cast another glance at Douglas, 
but the latter made no attempt to reply. His 
hands were clutched to his throat where the 
maddening pain had temporarily paralyzed 


394 


A PLEBE 


his vocal organs. With something akin to 
terror he heard Jackson piling up the evi- 
dence against him, and feared that his silence 
would be construed as a plea of guilty ; but 
then he remembered that night in plebe camp 
when Littlefield listened to his story of service 
in the Philippines, and insinuated that he 
knew something of Jackson’s conduct in the 
campaign. This thought impelled him to si- 
lence until he could drive the agony from his 
throat and speak with coolness and deliber- 
ation. 

“ Put these desks back into their places, Mr. 
Jackson,” said Littlefield, “ return the report 
to the case, and then you two men come with 
me. We’ll settle this business to-night.” 

In a few moments the orders had been 
complied with, and Douglas noticed with 
satisfaction that Littlefield had slipped the 
section-room book beneath his dress-coat in- 
stead of returning it to the desk, and that he 
was picking up the empty bottles of erasing 
material and the dark lantern which had been 
knocked over in the struggle. Apparently he 
was not willing to accept Jackson’s words as 
conclusive proof of guilt. 


AT WEST POINT 


395 


In complete darkness the three men groped 
their way down-stairs, and Littlefield retained 
the bunch of keys as he closed and locked the 
door of the Academic Building. The hop had 
just terminated and the cadets were streaming 
back across the area of barracks toward the 
guard-house to report their return to the 
officer of the day. 

“ Oh, Winslow,” he called sharply. 

“ Hello,” came back the answer as a tall 
figure halted at the door of the guard-house. 

Littlefield advanced and spoke a few words 
in a low tone and then turned toward his room. 
Douglas had seized upon the opportunity to 
get a drink at the hydrant in front of his sub- 
division, and the cooling draught over which 
he fondly lingered subdued the gnawing at his 
throat ; his breath ceased whistling through his 
teeth, and he felt at last that he could speak 
and defend himself against the charge which 
Jackson was following up with such alarming 
appearance of success. With consummate 
skill the latter had seized upon the opportuni- 
ties of an instant to escape disaster and en- 
tangle his pursuer in the net which had all 
but settled about his guilty shoulders. On the 


A PLEBE 


39 6 

evidence before him up to this moment, Lit- 
tlefield would be forced to render a verdict of 
guilty against Douglas. The fact that he was 
of doubtful proficiency and in desperate need 
of a few tenths, established a strong motive 
for visiting the section-room and changing the 
official record of his work, whereas the class 
rank which Jackson enjoyed precluded the 
possibility of his going there for any such 
motive. It was well known that they were 
bitter enemies — that would merely whet 
Jackson’s zeal in following up a suspicion that 
his enemy was guilty of an offense for which 
he would be dismissed in disgrace. Finally, 
there was the half-finished alteration of the 
marks on his section-room book — conclusive 
evidence of guilt. 

Douglas was beginning to feel the terrifying 
strength of these presumptions as he walked 
up-stairs behind Littlefield and entered the 
latter’s room. Winslow arrived a few mo- 
ments later, and throwing off his dress-coat 
pulled on his blouse and was ready for the 
question which all so eagerly wished to see 
determined. 

“ Mr. Jackson,” said Littlefield, “ you ac- 


AT WEST POINT 


397 

eused Mr. Atwell of being the thief for whom 
we have been searching. On what grounds do 
you make that assertion ? ” 

“ I — I’m not sure that he’s the thief, sir,” 
said Jackson. “ It flashed into my mind 
when — when I found him changing his marks 
that he must be the man. It — it can be easily 
proved one way or the other.” 

The accuser’s voice had almost dropped to a 
whisper as he approached the climax for which 
he had been waiting for months, and he seemed 
almost unable to talk. 

“ How can it be proved?” said Little- 
field. 

“ If Mr. Atwell took the things, he must 
still have them. If he is searched and no 
evidence of guilt is found, I will make any 
reparation or apology you may think proper.” 

“ Have you any objection to a search, Mr. 
Atwell ? ” asked Littlefield. 

Douglas shook his head. 

“ Where would you suggest that search be 
made, Mr. Jackson?” 

“ In the trunk-room, sir. You can get in 
with these keys — I think you can, sir, they 
look like the keys to the trunk-room.” 


A PLEBE 


398 

Littlefield’s keen eyes shot a glance at Wins- 
low, and he turned to Douglas. 

“ Have you anything to say before we go to 
the trunk-room, Mr. Atwell ? ” 

“ Nothing, sir, but I would like to wake my 
roommate, and tell him what has happened,” 
said Douglas, and though his voice was hoarse 
and unnatural, he had it under control again 
and was in full possession of his mental 
faculties. 

“ Have you any objection to his going alone 
to his room, Mr. Jackson ? ” 

“ N-no, sir,” said he, but his face was ashen. 

Douglas stepped out of the room and sprang 
up-stairs to Rory’s bedside. 

“ Rory, Rory,” said he as he shook his sleep- 
ing roommate, “ get up quick. The thing 
has happened. I caught Jackson in the 
Academic Building.” 

Rory sprang to his feet, and with growing 
excitement listened to the story of the night’s 
adventure and the situation that had devel- 
oped. With great difficulty Douglas restrained 
him from rushing down into the room below 
and choking the truth from Jackson’s lips. 
Rory was dressing with frantic haste and mut- 


AT WEST POINT 


399 


tering unspeakable things through his flying 
garments, when Douglas left the room and 
rejoined the group already waiting for him at 
the foot of the second flight of stairs. 

The long barracks was completely shrouded 
in darkness, for the period during which lights 
might be used after the termination of the hop 
had expired, and the group descended to the 
porch in silence. 

“ Take the lead, Mr. Jackson,” said Little- 
field, “ and be careful to attract no attention.” 

The keys rattled in Jackson’s fingers as he 
received them, and at once tiptoed along the 
front of the porch to the northwest angle of 
barracks, where the plebes had stored their 
trunks. With much show of uncertainty he 
worked at the lock, but at last a key turned 
and he shoved open the door. When all were 
inside and beyond the possibility of observa- 
tion, Littlefield snapped back the shield of his 
dark lantern and its light flashed over the 
trunks and boxes which filled the room. 

“ Where is your trunk, Mr. Atwell ? ” asked 
Littlefield. 

“ I have none, sir,” said he, “ only a small 
traveling-bag. I put it right here on this 


400 


A PLEBE 


small shelf when we turned in our cits (citi- 
zen’s clothing) but it’s gone.” 

His heart was now beating wildly. Up to 
this moment he had thought Jackson’s accu- 
sation a mere cowardly effort to humiliate 
him ; but now he knew that his traveling-bag 
had been removed from its proper place by 
hands that were bent upon his ruin. Both he 
and Jackson were now searching eagerly about 
the room, when the latter hauled his traveling- 
bag from beneath a box in the corner and 
tossed it across the trunks. 

“ Is this it ? ” said he with affected hesitation. 

Douglas seized it without an answer, tore 
open the straps, and snapped back the catch. 
Only his humble suit of “ cits ” lay before him, 
and he shoved the bag toward Littlefield and 
Winslow for inspection. 

“ Turn on your light here, Littlefield,” said 
the latter as he tossed the articles carelessly 
out of the bag and thrust his fingers into a 
parcel wrapped in paper that lay in the bot- 
tom. Through the broken covering came the 
yellow glint of gold, and Douglas’ brain reeled 
as Rory O’Connor’s watch slid out into the 
full blaze of the light. 


AT WEST POINT 


401 

But this was not all. One by one came the 
various articles that had disappeared since the 
beginning of the last encampment. 

“ It’s a gold mine,” said Winslow sarcas- 
tically as he piled the precious trinkets on the 
back of the wrinkled coat which lay on the 
top of a neighboring trunk ; “ allow me to re- 
turn your watch, Littlefield, for here it is, and 
we can now guess to which class the thief 
belongs.” 

“ And that’s my diamond pin,” exclaimed 
Jackson. “I lost it while living with Mr. 
i Atwell in barracks before we went to camp. 
He took it out of my dress-suit case under the 
pretense of putting away my things to prepare 
the room for inspection. It was the incident 
which aroused my suspicion, but I couldn’t 
actually accuse him until he was run down 
to-night.” 

“ What can you say to this, Mr. Atwell ? ” 
said Littlefield quietly, as he held his watch 
in his hand. 

Douglas sank upon a trunk overwhelmed 
with the magnitude of the plot which had 
been running its course from the first days of 
beast barracks. The odor of dust bit into his 


402 


A PLEBE 


nostrils, and in a distant corner a rat ran 
squealing to its hole, while the group sat 
watching him and waiting for an answer. 

“ I am not guilty,” said he at length, “ but 
I don’t know how I am going to prove my in- 
nocence.” 

“ Well, it’s high time you found out a way, 
Mr. Atwell,” interrupted Winslow, sharply. 
“You were found in the Academic Building 
changing your marks, as I understand it, and 
now we find your traveling-bag filled with 
stolen goods. If you are not ready to be 
drummed out of the corps by to-morrow night 
you’d better find a satisfactory explanation.” 

Littlefield laid his hand heavily upon Wins- 
low’s arm. “ Steady, Win,” said he, softly. 
“ I want to hear Mr. Atwell’s story. “ If you 
are guilty,” he continued, turning to Douglas, 
“ you might as well confess it at once and 
simply leave the academy ; but if you are 
not, I want to hear exactly what you did 
to-night, and why you are not capable of 
proving your innocence.” 

“ Very well, sir,” said Douglas, quietly. He 
was very cool and collected now, and in the 
most clear and convincing manner he related 


AT WEST POINT 


403 

tliQ story of the events which led up to his 
discovery in the Academic Building. Gradu- 
ally the truth seemed to be breaking through 
the fog to the two first classmen, and they 
hung eagerly upon every word that Douglas 
uttered. Not only the fate of a plebe, but 
the interests of the whole corps were at 
stake. 

“ Certainly it was not Mr. Jackson with 
whom I was struggling,” concluded Douglas. 
“ There must have been another man in the 
room who escaped just before Mr. Littlefield 
arrived, but I cannot substantiate that fact,” 
and he beat his hands together in despair. 
Then his face suddenly lit up with the thought 
of one incident that had been forgotten. “ I 
can, I can prove it,” he cried as he sprang to 
his feet. “ Come back to barracks and I will 
lay my hands upon the man.” 

Winslow was up now and quite as eager to 
assist Douglas as he had been willing to 
punish him a moment before. His one ob- 
ject was to locate the crime and treat it with 
the severity and promptness which it de- 
served. 

“Come on, Mr. Atwell, come on,” said he, 


404 


A PLEBE 


as he hastily gathered up the stolen property, 
“ every man in the corps is behind you if you 
are really the victim of a plot.” 

Jackson now hung behind. Every bit of 
his assurance and vehemence had disappeared, 
and in the dim light of the misty moon, which 
was drifting across the midnight sky, his face 
seemed ghastly. 

Douglas had intended to rush straight to 
the room of his enemy, but as he reached the 
hall of the subdivision, a sound reached his 
ears which made him halt and hold his breath. 
From the floor above came the unmistakable 
indications of a struggle, the sound of rapidly 
moving feet, the shock of falling bodies, fol- 
lowed by the half-smothered cry of some one 
in great mental and bodily anguish. 

Side by side Douglas and Winslow leaped 
up-stairs followed by Littlefield thrusting 
Jackson on before him. No need to ask the 
location of the disturbance. Winslow flung 
open the door of his room, and there on the 
floor, the flash of Littlefield’s lantern revealed 
Rory O’Connor seated on the chest of old 
Charley, the policeman of B Company, who 
was piteously begging for mercy. 


AT WEST POINT 


405 


One terrified glance Jackson cast at the 
struggling figures, and then he shrank back 
against the wall and seized upon the table for 
support. 


CHAPTER XX 


THE SOLUTION 

With some difficulty Rory O’Connor was 
dragged from the prostrate body of old 
Charley, the policeman, who at the sight of 
Jackson and the upper classmen, rolled over 
on his face and moaned like a child. 

“ Get up, Charley,” commanded Littlefield, 
as he seized the policeman by the shoulder 
and yanked him to a sitting position, “ get 
up instantly, sir, and tell me why you are in 
this room.” 

“I can explain the first part of it, sir,” 
panted Rory, as he faced the battered police- 
man, “ and then Charley can explain the rest, 
and if he doesn’t tell the truth and keep 
nothing back, there won’t be room enough 
for him and me on the same hemisphere.” 

“ Very well, sir,” said Littlefield, “ but 
lower your voice, Mr. O’Connor, and restrain 
your excitement. This business must be 
private.” 


406 


AT WEST POINT 


407 

“Well,” said Rory as he caught his breath, 
“ when Mr. Atwell waked me to-night and 
told me what had happened in the Academic 
Building, and that you were going to the 
trunk-room to inspect for stolen goods, I 
knew at once that Charley was the man we 
needed to clear up the trouble. . 

“ I found Charley sleeping in the basement 
and brought him up here before I told him 
what was the matter and what I knew of the 
case. He refused to -tell me the truth, so I 
was forced just — just to sort of knock it out 
of him, don’t you know, but I hope I didn’t 
hurt him much. 

“ I happened to know that he was im- 
plicated in this way. After the first football 
line-up last fall Mr. Speedwell called the 
team together immediately after the return 
of the battalion from supper for a conference 
at the gymnasium. Mr. Atwell will remem- 
ber that we returned from the meeting along 
the front of barracks and stopped at the 
corner of the Academic Building.” 

“ Yes, I remember,” said Douglas breath- 
lessly, for now the reason flashed into his 
mind as to why Rory had assaulted old 


A PLEBE 


408 

Charley, the faithful policeman, whose in- 
tegrity he had never before doubted. 

“ Well,” continued Roderick, “ down in the 
basement of barracks we saw the shadow of 
a cadet in conversation with Charley. The 
cadet was apparently urging Charley to re- 
ceive some money, and Mr. Atwell thought 
it a case of ‘ boodle dragging ’ (the securing 
of edibles), but things had already happened 
to arouse my suspicion, and during release 
from quarters that night I watched Charley.” 
Rory now lowered his voice and faced the 
shrinking figure at the wall. 

“ I saw him go to the trunk-room with 
Mr. Jackson.” 

There was a moment’s pause during which 
every one waited in breathless expectation. 
“ My suspicions were clinched that very 
night,” Rory went on. “ Mr. Atwell was a 
sentinel of the third relief and his post was 
the hall of this subdivision. I will ask him 
what he noticed about Mr. Jackson’s room 
that night.” 

“ I noticed that it was dark and apparently 
unoccupied until a few moments before the 
time for inspection. Then a light appeared 


AT WEST POINT 


409 


in the room and I heard voices inside. Both 
Mr. Jackson and Mr. Storms were present 
when I inspected, though neither had crossed 
my post.” 

“ Now I will ask Charley how they reached 
their room that night? ” 

“ Through th’ window, sir,” said Charley, 
humbly. “ I helped them through, sir.” 

“ How ? ” 

“ With a plank from the lumber-room 
beneath barracks.” 

“ Why didn’t they wait till the sentinel 
had gone up-stairs to make his regular in- 
spection, and then enter by the usual door?” 
demanded Winslow. 

“ They were tryin’ t’ git back t’ their rooms 
as quick as they could, sir, because they 
thought they’d been hived (discovered) by a 
Tac, sir.” 

“ And I was the Tac,” added Rory with a 
chuckle. “ I didn’t know how Mr. Storms 
was drawn into the case. At any rate there 
was no doubt in my mind that Mr. Jackson 
had visited the trunk-room for no honorable 
purpose, and I think I can prove my case be- 
yond the shadow of a doubt. 


410 A PLEBE 

4t Mr. Atwell told me that the Academic 
Building was entered to-night by means of a 
key. Did you not get into the trunk-room 
to-night, Mr. Littlefield, by means of a key 
from the same bunch ? ” 

“ We did,” said Littlefield. 

“ May I see the keys, sir ? ” 

The light shone brightly upon the bunch 
as Rory held it in front of Charley’s face and 
turned savagely upon him. 

“ Tell me where these keys came from.” 
Charley begged to be excused from answer- 
ing, and Rory’s anger was rising once more 
to the fighting point when Littlefield in- 
terrupted. 

“ It’s useless for you to refuse us informa- 
tion, Charley,” said he decisively. “ If you 
don’t answer immediately, I’ll call the 
sentinel on post and have you in the guard- 
house in five minutes. If you had no wrong 
intentions in this business, if you meant to 

commit no crime ” 

“ I didn’t, sir, I didn’t,” cried Charley 
wringing his hands and seizing eagerly on 
the implied opportunity for pardon. “ I never 
thought nothin’ would come of it, sir,” 


AT WEST POINT 


4i 1 

“Then tell us exactly the truth, Charley,” 
continued Littlefield soothingly, “ and per- 
haps you may escape all punishment. Where 
did the keys come from? ” 

“ I got them for Mr. Jackson, sir, or helped 
him get them. I stole them from the men in 
charge of the rooms and had new ones made. 
Mr. Jackson told me there wasn’t nothin’ 
wrong in it, that he just wanted t’ have a 
place t’ hide boodle and he dragged a lot, sir, 
fur he had plenty of money and paid me well, 
sir.” 

Jackson sank into a chair, and fora moment 
no one spoke. All seemed hushed to silence 
in the presence of these revelations of a cadet’s 
dishonor. The tower clock slowly struck the 
hour of midnight ; it was June the first, and 
within twelve days the fourth class were to pass 
from their plebedom and become, like their 
predecessors, the framers of the code of the 
corps. 

At last Rory broke the silence. “ I do not 
know what you found in the storeroom,” said 
he, “ but I think I may risk it that you found 
Mr. Atwell’s traveling-bag filled with plun- 
der?” 


A PLEBE 


41 2 

“ Yes,” said Littlefield, reflectively, “nearly 
every article which has disappeared since the 
plebe class reported was found in the bag.” 

“ My watch among them ? ” 

“ Yes, Rory, it was there,” said Douglas, in 
a choking voice. 

“ And some precious articles of Mr. Jack- 
son’s?” 

“ A diamond pin which he claimed to have 
lost while he lived with Mr. Atwell in beast 
barracks,” said Winslow. “ How did you 
happen to know of this ? ” 

“ Why, I can fix the very date, sir, the date 
on which my suspicions were first aroused as 
to Mr. Jackson’s character. It was the seventh 
of June. Mr. Atwell was returning from the 
examination, and I happened to meet him at 
the door of his room. Mr. Jackson’s effects 
were scattered about inside and his dress-suit 
case was lying open on the bed. While we 
were talking, we heard Mr. Swayne coming 
up to inspect, and I ran for my room. Shortly 
afterward Mr. Jackson also returned and came 
up to see me. We had been fairly good 
friends up to that date and it soon became 
apparent that he wanted to secure me as a 


AT WEST POINT 


4i3 


witness to the time Mr. Atwell came back to 
barracks. There was a vague insinuation in 
bis remarks that something serious had hap- 
pened, and from subsequent conversation with 
Mr. Atwell the same day, I saw that it must 
turn on the fact that he had been alone in the 
room with Mr. Jackson’s open dress-suit case, 
and had been forced to put his effects in order 
to avoid trouble at inspection. 

“ It struck me at once that here was the 
foundation for a charge of theft. The con- 
spiracy that was hatched at that time has been 
growing ever since, and by a great stroke of 
good fortune the chief conspirator is caught 
like a rat in his own trap.” 

Completely overwhelmed with the evidence 
of his guilt, Jackson had made no reply, but 
now his eyes were glittering with the light of 
a new thought. 

“ I understand Mr. O’Connor to acknowl- 
edge that he knew I had certain keys in my 
possession. I do not deny that I had them or 
that I paid Charley to get them for me.” 

Jackson rose. His face seemed bloodless in 
the light which was now turned upon him. 

“ Well, I missed those keys to-night from 


A PLEBE 


4 T 4 

my drawer, and the thought that they might 
have been stolen, caused me to rise about 
eleven o’clock, and it was then that I discov- 
ered some one sneaking from barracks, and I 
followed him up to the Academic Building. 
That man was Mr. Atwell. 

“ Who else would want to change his marks 
and save him from disaster? His life de- 
pended on getting the record changed, and if 
his roommate knew that I had those keys, so 
did Mr. Atwell. It is all clear to me now. 
These men convict themselves. Mr. Atwell 
stole the keys from my drawer and staked 
everything on changing the record of his de- 
ficient work. 

“ I have no doubt,” continued Jackson, 
with a sudden resumption of his old-time au- 
dacity, “ that Mr. O’Connor was in collusion 
with his roommate ; that he put his watch in 
the bag to use as a blind in case of discovery, 
and that he was preparing to share in the 
fruit of the spoils as soon as they could be 
disposed of.” 

Rory laughed till his sides shook ; Jack- 
son’s fingers were biting into his palms in the 
bitterness of his anger, while Douglas could 


AT WEST POINT 


4i5 

scarcely restrain his eagerness to be heard and 
to come to the defense of his roommate. 

“ Before we left the trunk-room,” said he, 
“ I told you that there were two men in the 
section-room when I entered to-night and that 
I could prove it — so I can. Look at my 
knuckles ! They are cut, cut with the teeth 
of the man with whom I was fighting. I hit 
him twice, once in the mouth and again a little 
higher. I think the man was Mr. Storms, 
and that we will find one of his eyes black and 
his lips showing the effects of a blow.” 

Jackson tried to protest, but Winslow si- 
lenced him instantly, and in a few moments 
the whole party was creeping softly down- 
stairs to Jackson’s room. 

Storms was in bed, and Douglas noted that 
he perceptibly shrank beneath the clothing as 
the footsteps sounded in his alcove. The final 
test of the lad’s truthfulness would be com- 
plete in a moment. 

The glare of Littlefield’s lantern filled the 
alcove, and Douglas waited in breathless anx- 
iety for the big plebe to rise, but Storms did 
not respond until Littlefield seized him by the 
shoulder and pulled him to a sitting position. 


A PLEBE 


416 

Jackson was crouching over the foot of the 
bed and clinging to the iron rail when his 
roommate’s face appeared above the bed- 
clothes. 

Storms’ left eye was black, his lips were 
puffed and bleeding, and Douglas knew that 
his name had been vindicated, that his inno- 
cence had been established. 

“What’s the matter?” exclaimed Storms 
roughly. 

“Where did you get those bruises?” de- 
manded Littlefield. 

“ I don’t know that I have to tell you or 
any one else,” said Storms, rolling his head 
angrily. 

“ As you like, sir ; you may have a trial by 
general court-martial, or you may tell us the 
truth and let us settle the case according to 
our private code.” 

A light footstep was heard in the hall, and 
Littlefield snapped out the light of his lantern, 
and all stood waiting anxiously as the door 
opened and Billy McGovern stepped in- 
side. 

“ I seen you goin’ through barracks, Mr. 
Littlefield,” said he, “ and when you got to 


AT WEST POINT 


4i7 

this room I knowed I could give you some 
help. You’re on the proper trail. 

“ After you went up in the Academic, I 
skipped over toward the north door, thinkin’ 
the feller might try t’ git out that way, an’ 
sure ’nuf out he pops. I seen his face clear 
as daylight an’ I’d know it agin in a thou- 
sand. Some one had smashed ’im an’ he was 
bleedin’ bad. 

“ Well, I followed ’im right up and seen 
that he come into this floor an’ I think he 
come into this room.” 

Littlefield once more turned the light of his 
lantern full upon Storms’ face. 

“ That’s ’im, that’s ’im,” said McGovern 
decidedly, “ he got out of the building by the 
north door and you missed him, clean.” 

“ All right, McGovern, thank you,” said 
Littlefield. “ Don’t say anything about the 
matter, and we’ll settle it among ourselves. I 
am much obliged to you for your faithful 
service in watching the building, and we will 
see that you are properly rewarded.” 

Billy McGovern was gone, the “ punch ” 
avenged, and nothing remained but to settle 


A PLEBE 


418 

matters with the two plebes who had played 
their last card and lost. 

“ Get up, Mr. Storms,” said Littlefield, “ and 
look at this book,” and he pulled Lieutenant 
Drummond’s section-room book from the 
bosom of his open dress-coat, for he was still 
in the uniform which he had worn at the 
hop. “ Were you in the Academic Building 
to-night?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“Was any one with you ? ” 

“ Mr. Jackson, sir.” 

“ Did you have a fight with any one while 
there ? ” 

“ Yes, sir, I suppose it must have been Mr. 
Atwell, he’s about the only man who could 
beat me, but he didn’t have it all his own 
way.” 

“ Did you erase the mark opposite Mr. 
Atwell’s name? ” 

“ I did, sir, and the one opposite my own.” 

“ Which I noticed, Mr. Atwell,” said Little- 
field turning to Douglas “ and which sug- 
gested to me that there must be something 
wrong with Mr. Jackson’s story. But why 
did you do this, Mr. Storms ? ” 


AT WEST POINT 


419 


“ I was going to increase my mark, sir, and 
save myself on the examination, and decrease 
liis and get him ‘ found 7 if I could. Mr. 
Jackson and I had agreed to run him out of 
the corps . 7 7 

“ Have you ever changed the marks be- 
fore ? 77 

“ Yes, sir, several times , 77 said Storms sul- 
lenly. “ I am the man who has been visit- 
ing the Academic Building. Mr. Jackson 
secured the keys and suggested the plan and I 
carried it out, though I made him come along 
sometimes because I enjoyed seeing the fright 
he always got. I don 7 t know why I did it 
except that I have always been fond of a fight, 
and I had it in for Mr. Atwell. Mr. Jackson 
promised to fix me all right if I got into 
trouble, but we’re caught now and I see the 
game’s up . 77 

“ Sit down and take your pen,” said Little- 
field. 

“ Now record the marks exactly as you 
found them when you took the book from 
Lieutenant Drummond’s desk.” 

Storms did as he was ordered, and even a 
close examination of the marks could reveal 


420 


A PLEBE 


no difference in the appearance of the record, 
for Storms was an excellent imitator in pen- 
manship. 

“ Come here, Mr. Jackson/’ said Littlefield, 
as he saw the work completed, and the trem- 
bling plebe, on the *verge of collapse, came 
from the alcove into which he had retired as 
soon as he beheld the battered face of his 
roommate and knew that his last hope was 
gone. 

“ Now,” said Littlefield, “ the question is 
what is to be done with these two men.” 

“ I would report the whole matter to-mor- 
row morning to the commandant or the 
superintendent,” said Winslow, “ and send 
them both before a general court-martial. No 
resignations should be accepted in a case like 
this. They should be publicly disgraced so 
that the districts from which they come can- 
not be deceived as to why they left the 
academy. That is one way of dealing with 
the matter. Another is to placard them as 
common thieves and drum them out of the 
corps. On second thought I am in favor of 
the latter,” concluded Winslow, hotly. 

With a smothered cry Jackson sank to the 


AT WEST POINT 


421 


floor and burst into a violent fit of tears ; be- 
tween his broken sobs he begged piteously for 
the mercy of the men whose uniform he had 
disgraced, whose confidence he had betrayed. 
He humbly acknowledged his guilt in all that 
had been charged, excused Storms for his part 
in the miserable conspiracy, but with passion- 
ate earnestness he implored the corps to spare 
his mother the anguish which an exposure 
would cause her. 

“ Mr. Atwell has a mother/’ said Littlefield, 
coldly. “ You did not think of her anguish 
when you tried to disgrace her son.” 

Jackson clutched his face between his hands 
and his whole frame shook with the grief 
which had mastered him. He was a pitiable 
spectacle indeed, a young man utterly out of 
harmony with every ethical standard of his 
surroundings, and his surroundings could 
tolerate him no longer. 

“ Out with him,” said Winslow, “ let’s listen 
to no more. We’ll get the class together and 
drive them out. Come on. A train is due in 
half an hour.” 

“ No, no,” said Littlefield. “ We can’t 
drive them off the reservation. I know that 


422 


A PLEBE 


they have committed crimes enough to close 
their mouths and make them thankful for 
getting off so lightly, but we’ve taken risks 
enough already in investigating this business 
privately without reporting it at once to the 
proper authorities. We can’t take the law in 
our own hands. Having found out the facts 
in the case, it is our manifest duty to hand 
these men over for trial by a general court- 
martial, and the results in the long run will 
be better. Every person in the country will 
know that not only the upper classes but the 
plebes iemselves were instrumental in captur- 
ing ,e guilty men and bringing them to 

ju 3.” 

“ 1 suppose you are right, as usual,” said 
Winslow, gritting his teeth ; and as Littlefield 
extinguished his lantern the group followed 
him out into the hall and turned quietly to 
their respective rooms. 

In a silence broken only by Jackson’s chok- 
ing sobs, the two degraded plebes dressed in 
their dark room. Taking with them only 
such articles as they could carry on their 
persons, they crossed the area of barracks, 
and took the path leading to the West Shore 


AT WEST POINT 


423 


railroad. Ten minutes later a train burst 
through the tunnel and hauled up at the sta- 
tion. Two solitary passengers stepped aboard, 
and as the great tower clock on the Academic 
Building sounded the hour of 1 a. m., the 
New York train disappeared around the high 
cliffs that overhang the Hudson. 

That morning when the gray ranks formed 
for reveille roll-call, the two plebes were ab- 
sent, and the cadet officer of the day found 
their room empty. 

Jackson and Storms had deserted. Unable 
to face the withering scorn of the c ns, they 
had gone in the night, and not a m "ould 
be found who expressed either surj: ■.» or 
regret. 

“ Do you know,” said little Dalton, as he 
came timidly up to Douglas, “ I have a slight 
suspicion that Jackson and Storms may have 
been implicated in that stealing business and 
cleared out to avoid an exposure.” 

“ Have you, Dalton ? ” said Douglas, as he 
rubbed his sleepy eyes. “ Why ? ” 

But Dalton could give no answer, and his 
shrewd little eyes could discover no evidence 
in Douglas’ face to support his conclusion. 


CHAPTER XXI 


A YEARLING CORPORAL 

It was the 12th of June. For the last 
time Starring stood in front of the gray ranks, 
his tall plume dancing in the breeze, while 
behind him a great throng had assembled to 
hear the publication of his last order to the 
United States corps of cadets. In front of the 
library stood a huge tent artistically draped 
with the national colors, where the secretary 
of war had completed the distribution of 
diplomas to the members of the graduating 
class, and had wished the gallant young sons 
of the academy every success that could at- 
tend them in their life in the army. From 
this imposing scene the battalion had marched 
to the front of barracks, and now every man 
in ranks stood in the dawn of a new day in 
his career at the academy. 

The second class v r as to succeed to the 
honors and duties which the young graduates 
were vacating. The yearlings were to step 

424 


AT WEST POINT 


425 


into the places of their seniors, and moreover 
leave the academy for furlough, for home, for 
the happiest time in all their four years of 
cadet life ; but to the plebes, the occasion 
meant more than all this. They were to 
escape from plebedom, cast off the “ Mister,” 
leap the almost immeasurable chasm between 
them and the upper classes and be admitted 
to social equality with the rest of the corps. 
Within a week they were to pass from the 
obscurity of the rear rank to the position of 
instructors of the incoming class which was 
even then hastening from all parts of the 
country to report at West Point. 

But this was not all. Every plebe in ranks 
was waiting with bated breath, for Starring’s 
last message to the corps would announce the 
list of corporals, and thirty out of their num- 
ber were destined to win their stripes, and, in 
winning them, to experience the greatest hap- 
piness that would ever come to them in their 
official careers. 

To Douglas Atwell, the moment was full 
of the most tremendous significance. The re- 
sults of the examination had not yet been 
announced, but that list of corporals might 


A PLEBE 


426 

tell the tale. Should he win his chevrons, it 
would mean that he had passed the examina- 
tion, that the greatest ambition of his life was 
possible of attainment. Hanging on every 
word of the order he listened as Starring 
read : — 

Headquarters United States Military Academy, 
West Point , N. Y., June 12th. 
Special Orders , No. — . 

1. Upon the recommendation of the Com- 
mandant of Cadets the existing appointments 
of officers and non-commissioned officers in 
the Battalion of Cadets are hereby revoked. 

2. Upon the recommendation of the Com- 
mandant of Cadets the following appointments 
of officers and non-commissioned officers in 
the Battalion of Cadets are announced to take 
effect immediately : — 

To be Captains : — Cadets Townsend, Black, 
Castleman and Morris. 

The first-sergeant of B Company had won 
the place left vacant by Godwin. Then fol- 
lowed the appointments for adjutant, quarter- 
master, lieutenants, sergeant-major, quarter- 
master-sergeant, first-sergeants, acting-ser- 
geants of the first class, and Starring had 


AT WEST POINT 


427 

reached the portion of the order which Doug- 
las felt must announce his fate. 

To be Corporals : — Cadets Adamson, Wilson, 
Barrett, Murray, O’Connor. . . . 

Rory had won his stripes, was close to the 
top of the list, and a delighted chill crept over 
Douglas as he heard of the good fortune of his 
friend and roommate, — but the other names 
on the list were coming like the patter of rain- 
drops, and Douglas’ heart stood still with 
anxiety — “ Marley, Castle, King, Shannon, 
Atwell ” 

He heard no more. He was a yearling cor- 
poral — he had passed the examination, and 
his mind was in a tumult of joy such as he 
had never known before. 

The next instant, as ranks broke, he was 
shouting his happiness and clasping Rory in 
his arms, forgetful of all except that he had 
triumphed at last after a year of almost super- 
human effort. He was safe, safe again to 
march in the ranks of the “ Black and Gold 
and Gray,” a yearling and tenth ranking cor- 
poral of his class, while Rory O’Connor stood 
five. They were exactly in the places occu- 


A PLEBE 


428 

pied by Swayne and Kendrick just a year ago 
when, as friendless candidates, they reported 
in the hall of barracks. This moment of tri- 
umph and happiness will never be blotted 
from the memory of the two young friends. 

Within five minutes, they had secured their 
chevrons from the cadet store, had pinned 
them to their sleeves, and stood waiting in 
front of barracks for the formation for dinner. 

The second classmen and the happy grad- 
uates in their fine suits of cits were dashing 
from barracks in all directions, the former off 
for two and one-half months of furlough, the 
latter to join their regiments and serve the flag 
wherever the bugle might sound the call to 
duty. 

Douglas had stepped back into the hall of 
barracks to exchange greetings with a class- 
mate, when he heard a familiar voice, “ At- 
well, I want to congratulate you on winning 
your chevrons. I would rather see you win 
them than any other man in your class,” and 
Douglas whirled about to see Littlefield ap- 
proaching him with extended hand. 

The boy’s heart was full as he met the warm 
grasp of the young graduate, for Littlefield 


AT WEST POINT 


429 

had been his true friend ever since he entered 
the academy. 

“ Thank you, thank you, lieutenant,” said 
he, for such was Littlefield’s prospective rank, 
“ it is doubly gratifying to me because I know 
that I have passed the examination.” 

“ Oh, I knew you would,” said Littlefield, 
“ but before I go I want to say a word in con- 
fidence,” and here Littlefield lowered his 
voice. 

“ There are troublesome times coming on 
account of the campaign against hazing, which 
was started during the last encampment. 
You have had a remarkable career, and in 
every crisis you have shown yourself equal to 
the emergency. When the crisis comes in 
this problem which your class must face, I 
hope to hear that you led the sober and con- 
servative element with credit both to yourself 
and the academy. 

“ I have requested assignment to the — th 
Infantry, in which my cousin, Lieutenant 
Milton, is serving. I stand a chance of re- 
ceiving the appointment of second lieutenant 
in the old company in which you served your 
campaign in the Philippines, and three years 


43 ° 


A PLEBE 


from to-day I hope to see your name added to 
the regimental roster.” 

Littlefield pressed his hand warmly and was 
gone. Had the long year with its conspiracy, 
its failures, its heartaches, been attended only 
with this reward, Douglas would have been 
happy. He gazed affectionately after the 
handsome young officer whose standards were 
ever for the best there was in the corps, and 
mentally resolved to do as “ Littlefield would 
do ” when the time would come. 

The drums at the sally-port rattled off* the 
assembly ; Douglas Atwell, the yearling cor- 
poral, stepped into his place in ranks, and un- 
der command of Townsend, the new first cap- 
tain, the battalion marched away to the Mess 
Hall, where the graduates might say the final 
farewell to their friends. 

The plebe year was over, and the new year- 
lings were already embarked as upper class- 
men on their final three years’ course, the 
most eventful years in the history of the 
academy. 




THE END 

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